Fallen Angels
by Tori-chan
Summary: ~SPOILERS~ What really happened at the end of the Weiß TV series? We get a brief glimpse of something; but what does it mean? This story takes it in a slightly different direction . . .
1.

~ f a l l e n a n g e l s ~

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**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Weiß or it's characters (ohhh, though I wish I did...) so don't sue me. You wouldn't get anything... I have no money! This story takes place after the end of the TV series, but since I haven't gotten to see the OVAs (;_;) it doesn't have anything from there in it.  
**C&C is very welcome! I always want feedback, even if it's just dropping a line and saying, 'Hey, I read your fic.' Email me at saezuru@hotmail.com if you want to say anything. Thanks for reading!

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f a l l e n a n g e l s  
a weiß kreuz fanfiction  
part one   
  


  
  
  
  
  
They ran. Blindly, faster than they ever had before, they ran. But the murderers could hear their hunters behind them, closing in on them, nearer and nearer. One of them tripped over a trash can and turned, peering back into the mist. "Wh-who are you guys?" he asked fearfully.   
The mist swirled violently as a figure stepped forward, partway unsheathing a gleaming katana. In a quiet, deadly voice he said, "We protect those of the light."   
There was a rush of movement; the hiss of darts, the ripping noise of tearing claws, a flash of thin, shining wire, the briefest flash of a katana. Then it was all over, and the alleyway was silent.   
  
  
  
  
The television set fired to life again after a month of disuse. "This is the fourth report this month," the news reporter was saying. "A young man was attacked and robbed on sixth street last night, by four men who took his money and ran off. Later, these men turned up, badly injured by seemingly a variety of weapons, at the hospital doors, left there by some unknown watcher. None of their injuries were fatal, but they had to spend a good time in the hospital and will most likely spend even more time in jail when their trial is over. The money was later found back in the apartment of the man who was robbed."   
The reporter looked up from her notes and towards the camera. "Each of the previous three times, the same thing has happened. Who are these guardian angels, shrouded by the night?"   
With a flick of his wrist, a young man turned off the television set with a sigh of relief. "That's good to hear . . . I'm glad their injuries aren't too serious."   
Another young man grinned at him from his place sprawling on the couch. "I know what you mean, Omiitchi. It's hard to know, after all these years of killing and all the blood staining your hands, whether or not you can still fight without death."   
Yet another one, standing off to the side a little raised one eyebrow. "That was certainly profound, Youji. Coming from you, it's a miracle." He folded a piece of paper slightly in his hands.   
The fourth boy, glancing out the window, said quietly, "He's right, Aya. It frightens me each time we do this. Why are we still fighting?"   
Aya closed his deep, plum-colored eyes. "Because . . . because we can still make a difference. There were so many that we couldn't save . . . Oka-san, Persia . . . but I don't want to settle for losing them." He looked down at the folded piece of paper in his hands.   
Youji ran a hand through his hair and peered at Aya. "A paper airplane? I didn't know you made paper airplanes, Aya-kun."   
"I don't." With a twist of his hands, Aya crumpled the paper airplane into a ball and tossed it into the trash can.   
There was a brief silence for a moment, until Omi cleared his throat. Grateful for the distraction, the other young men looked at him expectantly. "I checked Manx's database this morning."   
Ken leaned forward. "You sound grim. Anything unusual?"   
Omi hesitated. "I'm not sure. I had to work fast­ I think she's onto something. She's noticed that every time she records the activities of a criminal group, that very same group gets deposited at the hospital the next day. But . . . apparently, there's been tell of young men just collapsing onto the ground for no apparent reason, and falling into comas. It's always young men, and it's always in the dark. Some woke up out of their comas already, and don't remember anything that had happened, but others are still . . . still . . ." He had trailed off, looking at Aya.   
Aya's face was impassive, as usual, but his eyebrow was twitching ever so slightly. Swallowing, he gestured for Omi to keep talking. "Comas aren't permanent. There's always a chance to come out of one. Do go on­ that can't be all."   
Omi shook his head. "No . . . that's just it, there's no more information on the attacks. There was a video taken of when one of the young men collapsed. There's definitely something weird going on, but I didn't get time to really sit down and analyze it." Omi's cheeks turned a little pink, and he shut his mouth with a pop.   
Youji leaned forward. "Oh? And why not?"   
Omi shrugged, turning around to rearrange the flowers in a vase. "She­ Manx, I mean­ um, came out to check her email."   
"So?"   
"Er, well . . . she lives alone, and had just, er, come out of the shower." Omi continued to fiddle with the flower arrangement.   
Youji smirked slightly. "Man . . . you lucky boy. Too bad you're too young to really appreciate it. Wish I had the talent to get into people's computers like that . . ."   
"Youji, it wasn't funny!" Cheeks flaming, Omi spun around to face his grinning partner.   
Aya pointed impassively. "Omi, you're blushing."   
Omi paused. "Oh, really?" he said absent-mindedly. "I keep forgetting." Immediately, the color in his cheeks disappeared.   
Ken shook his head. "Oi, leave him alone, Youji-kun. Ne, Omi . . . let's see this tape."   
Omi nodded, giving the innocently grinning Youji a slight glare. Stepping forward, he brushed his fingers lightly against the television monitor and concentrated for a second. With a flare of light, the set turned on.   
The scene showed a young man and his girlfriend sitting in a brand new car, apparently being taped by a friend. The young man was enthusiastically talking about the speed capabilities and mileage, while the girl looked pleasantly bored. After a moment, the young man's voice slowed and then stopped, and he stopped for the briefest of moments, staring at a spot just past his girlfriend's ear. Then he suddenly clutched his head, letting out a yell, and fell to the pavement. He twitched once and then lay still, oblivious to the hysterical cries of his girlfriend and the shocked stare he was getting from his friend. Then the screen cut to static. Omi sighed and started to reach for the remote control to turn off the television set. Youji looked at him with raised eyebrows, and then waggled his fingers at him. Omi flushed slightly. "Oh! That's right, I'm not getting used to this very well." He frowned at the television set for a moment, and the screen went black.   
"You're blushing again, too," Ken pointed out.   
"I'm sorry!" Omi said, a little more sharply than he intended to. "I'm not used to being dead!"   
There was a silence filled only with the slight rustle of fabric as Youji reached for a cigarette. Aya absently plucked it from his fingers, saying softly, "You don't have a physical body anymore, Youji. You can't be affected by nicotine."   
Youji frowned. "So? All the better. I can't get lung cancer or anything."   
Aya sighed. "Youji, angels don't smoke. When's the last time you saw a picture of an angel with a cigarette?"   
"And when's the last time you saw an angel running around in a trench-coat, waving around a katana?"   
Aya didn't answer. Omi smiled. Ken looked out the window, his deep violet eyes troubled. "Something just isn't right about this," he murmured quietly. "I can't explain it, but I have this strange feeling . . ."   
Aya gave Ken a piercing glance. "It's true that your talent hasn't manifested yet . . . maybe it's seeing the future, or something."   
Ken hesitated. "It's not like that. I just have a weird feeling, deep in my chest."   
Youji waved a hand at Ken, nonchalantly. "Well, there you have it. It's probably the start of your talent. Remember, when Omi got his he could only make the mouse cursor move at first." He grinned at Omi, making the boy blush. He decided not to point out that his blushing was only a habit from when he had been alive. Angels didn't blush.   
After the four of them had died, along with Schwartz, in the building collapse, they'd somehow found themselves back on Earth, each with an ambiguous but very firm set of instructions somehow set into their minds. None of the boys had shared what their particular set of instructions were, but one thing they had all had in common was that they had been assured that they would gain some sort of unnatural talent. Omi had been the first (and, until now, only) one to manifest the talents they had been told they would get. He'd been sitting at his laptop one day when he'd suddenly realized he wasn't actually moving the mouse at all with his hands. The cursor was moving on its own. Startled, he had called the other boys who rightfully assumed it was his talent. Poor Omi had been so disappointed­ after all, what kind of talent was moving a mouse cursor? But gradually he'd developed it to the point where he could get inside anything electronic, especially computers and the information highway. That was how they got all their info­ Omi raided Manx's computer, who was still collecting information on criminals for some reason.   
But somehow, none of the others had gotten their talents yet. Youji sighed, reaching for another cigarette, which was promptly snatched away again. He glanced at the clock and stretched luxuriously. "Well, time for bed, boys. We've got investigating to do tomorrow." He stood up and sauntered towards the stairs.   
The others followed, Omi stifling a yawn. Aya shook his head. "You know we don't actually have to sleep, Youji."   
"It'll help to sleep on the problem, Aya-kun. Just trust me on this."   
"Whatever, Youji." The redhead turned the corner and closed the door to his room without so much as a "goodnight."   
Youji blinked his amethystine eyes. "Grouchy as always, I see . . ." He turned and grinned at Omi and Ken who smiled back, their violet eyes glinting in the faint light. "Goodnight, kids!"   
"We're not kids, Youji." Ken grinned. "Technically, we're all the same age now."   
"Ah, but that's where you're wrong. I'm still older than you, no matter what the rules of angel-dom say."   
Omi laughed. "Goodnight, Youji-kun. Night, Ken-kun." And he disappeared into his room, shutting the door with a loud click.   
Ken slipped into his room. "Night, Youji." He shut the door behind him.   
Youji stood in the hallway for a moment, before flicking off the hallway light and padding into his own room as silently as a cat, the door shutting behind him silently.   
  
  
  
  
Ken winced in the dark as the floorboards creaked slightly. He closed the door behind him again, the only just audible click it made sounding like crash symbols to his ears. He didn't want to wake the others . . . for some reason, something about the criminal report they had gleaned from Manx's computer was nagging at him horribly, and he couldn't sleep. He couldn't even remember exactly how one went about falling asleep . . . being dead did weird things to a person's natural instincts.   
He stumbled over something in the hallway and stifled a curse. It was at times like these that he wished angels really did have the halos of light depicted in religious pictures-- that way he'd have some way of seeing where he was going. He bent over and brushed the object away and out of his path. _God damn it,_ he thought to himself, not even flinching at the words he was using despite being an angel in every sense of the word. _Why does Youji always leave his shoes all over the place?_ He continued across the floor and then slowly, carefully made his way silently down the staircase. When he reached the bottom, he breathed a sigh of relief and reached out to flip on the light switch. And blinked at what he saw.   
The other three ex-assassins were in various places all around the room, in strange positions as if they'd been caught right in the middle of tiptoeing across the floor. Their expressions, like deer caught in the headlights of a car, would have been priceless had Ken not been wearing one identical to theirs on his own face.   
Youji was the first to recover from surprise, and straightened up. "Well . . ." he said briskly. "Looks like we all had rather the same idea. Somehow I gather the idea that you all aren't down here with a bad case of the midnight munchies."   
Ken blinked, lowering his hand from the light switch. "Yeah," he murmured aloud. "Yeah, I had that same feeling I had earlier today again. Something's bothering me about what Omi said."   
Omi nodded his agreement, glancing at Aya who was now leaning silently against the wall. He wondered briefly as Aya adjusted something at his side, if the older man had gone to sleep wearing his katana. But then he pushed that thought from his mind and spoke. "Same here. I don't know what it is, but something seems strange."   
Youji raised an eyebrow as he pulled out a cigarette and lit it. "Stranger than teenaged boys dropping to the ground in instant comas?" he drawled.   
"You know what I'm talking about!" Ken snapped, and then immediately regretted it. What was making him so tight strung?   
"Why so uptight, Kenken?" Youji echoed Ken's thoughts, peering at him with his deep violet eyes in what almost seemed to be concern.   
Ken took a deep breath and let it out, slowly. "I don't know." He tried to put what he was feeling into words, and simply repeated, "I don't know."   
Aya straightened up, pushing away from the wall. "Can you put the video file back on the screen, Omi?"   
Omi blinked once and nodded. "A-aa, Aya-kun." He closed his eyes, his expression one of deep concentration for a moment. Then the old television monitor sparked to life, and began replaying the scene they had all watched earlier of the boy collapsing in front of his friends. The four assassins watched it in silence.   
"Play it again," said Aya.   
Omi nodded, and the film rewound itself and began playing again.   
Youji suddenly leaned forward, lifting one hand slightly. "Wait-- stop, Omi." The video immediately stopped, as the others gave him slightly puzzled looks. "Rewind it just a bit-- no, further-- there. Play it again."   
It was just before the boy's expression went blank. For the briefest moment, a flash of black clouded the air just behind him. But then it was gone in the blink of an eye, and no one was sure they'd seen it.   
"Play it again," Ken whispered through dry lips.   
The scene played itself over and over, but every time, the tiny flash of shadow was visible. But only barely. Without being asked, Omi slowed down the film just before the darkness came. At the slowed rate, the flash of darkness could be seen as a lighting-fast swirl of shadow around the boy's head, the merest speck of gold light in its midst. Omi rewound it once more and played it back even more slowly, and paused it in shock at what he saw.   
They were very familiar. Their color had changed to a deep, rich gold, but the shape and mind behind them were as familiar to Weiß as their weapons-- those golden eyes suspended in the cloud of shadow . . .   
Aya's dry lips parted, and he whispered quietly into the silent room. "Schwartz . . ."   
  
  
  


  
  
  
  


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_Fallen Angels_, by Tori-chan: email me at saezuru@hotmail.com 


	2. 

~ f a l l e n a n g e l s ~

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Weiß or it's characters (ohhh, though I wish I did...) so don't sue me. You wouldn't get anything... I have no money! This story takes place after the end of the TV series, but since I haven't gotten to see the OVAs (;_;) it doesn't have anything from there in it.**  
**C&C is very welcome! I always want feedback, even if it's just dropping a line and saying, 'Hey, I read your fic.' Email me at saezuru@hotmail.com if you want to say anything. Thanks for reading!**

* * *

  
  
  


f a l l e n a n g e l s  
a weiß kreuz fanfiction  
part two   
  
  
  


  
"How has the search been going?"   
"Not well."   
"Nothing?"   
"Nothing."   
There was a short, unpleasant laugh. "Well, keep looking. It doesn't matter how many get ruined, as long as You find one who suits Your purposes."   
"Hai. But what about You?"   
"I'm looking still. Don't worry, We have some time left."   
Silence for a moment. "But We don't have forever."   
"No."   
"I'll continue looking."   
"Good."   
  
  
  
  
Akito laughed and pushed his six year-old sister's swing once more, causing her to shriek in delight. Then he stepped aside and let her swing by herself. Leaning against the metal bars, he watched her swing back and forth. "Ne, Hisae-chan, do you want to get ice cream after this?" He wanted to make his sister's birthday the best she'd ever had.   
The little girl's eyes widened. "Really?"   
Akito nodded, with a wide smile. "Really."   
"Hai, oniichan!" She put her feet down and dragged the swing to a halt, rushing over and flinging her arms around her brother's knees.   
Akito pretended to stumble backwards, landing in the sandbox. "Oi, you're getting too big for that, Hisae-chan!"   
Laughing, Hisae grabbed a handful of her brother's hair. "Ice cream!" she said happily.   
"Owowow . . . okay, Hisae-chan! We'll go! Let go my hair!"   
"Haaaii!" She released her hold on Akito's head, and he stood up, reaching down for her hand. Hisae took it happily and began skipping towards the ice cream store across the street. They waited at the corner for the walk signal to light up, and then began to make their way along the cross-walk. As they reached the middle of the street, Akito suddenly stopped, staring ahead of him wide-eyed.   
Hisae looked up and tugged at her brother's hand. "Oniichan, come on! Oniichan!"   
Akito continued staring in front of him. _Let's see here . . ._ the sly, smooth voice was only audible to him, echoing inside his mind. _Sixteen, top student in the class. Lives with his little sister, parents both dead. Oh, how charming . . . such a happy little family . . ._   
Hisae tugged harder. "Oniichaaaan! What's wrong? Oniichan?"   
Akito's ears didn't even hear his little sister's cries. He didn't even have time to wonder what was going on. The slithering little voice went on a little louder. _ Well, nothing for it but to try. I'm sure you won't mind. After all, you'll either die or serve Me and the others. Wonderful choice, isn't it?_ And with that, a sharp pain flooding into overrode any senses Akito might have had left. Just before his vision went black, he thought he caught the briefest glimpse of a pair of inhuman, golden eyes boring into his own with an impossible intensity . . .   
He clapped his hands to his head, crying out suddenly and doubling over. His little sister screamed and tugged frantically at his arm, trying to pull him off the street. The 'walk' sign was flashing ominously, a warning that the light for the traffic would soon change.   
He sank to his knees, moaning, clutching his head in his hands. Tears on her face, Hisae tried to drag her brother to his feet again. But he was sixteen years old, and she was only six. She didn't do anything except exhaust herself. He whispered something under his breath, something Hisae's young ears strained to her.   
The light changed. But no one could see the small pair huddled in the middle of the crosswalk. The traffic started to move forward.   
Hisae didn't see. Her eyes were clouded by frightened tears, and she kept pulling at her older brother's arm. He didn't move, except for the slight shuddering of his frame as if he were in horrible pain. "Oniichan . . . oniichan . . ." Her voice rose. "Oniichan, wake up! Wake up! You promised me ice cream today-- you promised me­ oniichan . . ." She knelt down by her brother and began to sob.   
The traffic moved on. A driver spotted something in front of his car and honked as he tried to brake, hard. But it wasn't slowing fast enough-- the brakes were locked, the car began to skid towards the intersection . . .   
Akito suddenly stood up, fluidly. He ignored the choked sobbing of his sister and glanced towards the traffic as the rest of the drivers saw him and tried to brake­ there was a screech of brakes, a flash of sunlight glinting off a rearview mirror­ the cars spun into the intersection, a cloud of dust stirring and rising.   
Only when everything was silent again did the dust begin to clear. No one noticed that the young boy was no longer in the intersection, and was standing over on the street corner. There was no way he could have gotten there that fast. No, nobody noticed­ all eyes were on the little, crumpled form of a little girl lying motionless in the middle of the street where an oncoming car had tossed her.   
From the street corner, the boy looked into the intersection. Then, silently, without attracting any attention at all, he turned and began to walk down the street, hands in his pockets. He was smiling.   
  
  
  
  
"Aya-kun, you're going to get caught!"   
"Caught? It's not as if I'm doing anything wrong."   
Omi wrung his hands, glancing towards the flower shop entrance. "But Sakura and Aya-chan are here now, running the flower shop! You know we have to stay inside during the day so they don't see us­"   
Aya didn't respond. Ken rolled his eyes, and added, "He's right, Aya. You can't go out now."   
Aya shook his head. "Just because it's daylight doesn't mean I can't make my regular visit to the hospital." His hand tightened imperceptibly around the bouquet of flowers he was holding.   
Youji, sprawled on the couch as usual, leaned his head over the end of the couch so he could watch Aya upside down. "Why are you still going there? I think I'd avoid a hospital at all costs... nasty places, really. Your sister is awake, live and well, so why still visit there every day?"   
Aya pulled his arm away from Omi's grasp and moved towards the door. "Because I know what it's like in there. People need company." And with that, he was gone.   
Youji stared after him, the upside down door swinging closed behind him. Then, with a loud sigh, he sat up, swinging his long legs to the floor. "Well, I'm never going to understand him. Not until he decides to actually show us what he feels."   
Omi was listening worriedly for any sounds of surprise from upstairs. "Our whole mission could be blown if Sakura or Aya-chan see him now. No one is supposed to know that angels even exist, much less that we've become them . . ."   
"Relax, Omi--" Ken began, but Youji interrupted.   
"Mission? What mission? I don't remember being given any mission. Sure, we all got our own sets of instructions, but mine don't make any sense."   
Omi sighed. "Mine don't either. But isn't You-Know-Who supposed to be all-knowing? Surely it'll make sense when the time comes."   
Youji made a rude noise in his throat. "Oh, sure, great load of good that's gonna do us."   
  
  
  
  
  
  
Aya slipped out of the door to the flower shop, concentrating hard on _not being seen_. All the boys had found they could achieve a sort of imperfect invisibility if they simply suggested, very hard, to observers that they weren't there. Aya felt a shiver go up his spine as people's eyes just slid around him, like water. He glanced back as the door closed, through the flower shop window, and had a nasty shock.   
Sakura Tomoe, her hair cut short once more, was staring straight at him. Aya froze. _I'm not here,_ he thought furiously. _You're imagining things. Go back to the flowers. I'm _not_ here_ . . .   
After an instant that felt like an eternity, Sakura looked back down at her flowers and blinked, as if wondering what she was doing. Then she shook herself, smiled, and went back to suggesting flower arrangements to her customer.   
Aya breathed a sigh of relief, and then began walking down the street, still thinking vaguely about not being seen. But it didn't matter so much anymore-- not many people would notice a nondescript redhead strolling down the sidewalk.   
His mind kept wandering as he walked. So there was a batch of people falling into comas? What did it mean? How come they were all young teenaged boys? He shook his head. It didn't make any sense. This was when he needed Ken's wild imagination, Omi's quick intelligence, Youji's drawling way of shooting down his impossible ideas.   
Before he knew it, he had reached the hospital. He glanced up at the gloomy, cookie-cutter building for a moment before he entered and stopped at the desk. The nurse behind the desk, a dark-haired young woman, wasn't the usual one. Aya generally came at night, so this must be the day-shift receptionist. She looked blankly at him for a moment, until he cleared his throat.   
"Oh!" she said, blinking a few times. "I didn't see you there before." She looked at him rather suspiciously. "Can I help you?"   
"I've brought flowers," he said quietly.   
"For whom?"   
"Anyone who needs them."   
The nurse looked puzzled. "But who? Surely you have someone in mind--"   
Aya shook his head. "No, ask the night-shift receptionist-- I come every day. The place needs cheering up, and I work in a flower shop." He shrugged, as if that explained it.   
The nurse looked hard at him for what seemed like a long time, and then sighed. "Very well. If you'll follow me, I'll take you down to intensive care, and you can pick one of the rooms to put your flowers in." She smiled, ever so slightly. "It's a good thing you're doing, you know, if a little odd. People need flowers, even if they're in no condition to enjoy them."   
Aya didn't reply, but merely followed the young woman as she left the desk to lead him down to the intensive care rooms. He looked in at the windows on the doors as he passed. There was an old mad in one room-- Aya remembered him. Two days ago, he'd left flowers in his room. He craned his neck slightly, and saw them on his night-stand, in a vase of murky water. They moved on to the next room. If Aya remembered correctly, the next room should be a little boy of about ten, who'd fallen off his family sail boat and nearly drowned. He remembered the little boy well­ thinking about him brought a tiny smile to Aya's lips. Despite being in the hospital, the boy had been so full of energy, so cheerful. Aya had been going to leave the flowers there that day, but the boy had told him to save them for someone who needed them more than him­ he'd showed Aya the teddy bear that his parents had brought him, and talked about how that took the place of flowers.   
As they passed the window, he looked inside. The bed was empty, the sheets clean and folded up neatly at the foot of the bed. The teddy bear was gone.   
Aya smiled, and turned to the nurse. "So this boy got released from the hospital?"   
The nurse glanced at the room, and shook her head quietly. "No-- no, he had a seizure yesterday. Probably from the stress or trauma of his accident."   
Aya's eyes widened in shock. But just yesterday the boy had seemed so alive, so healthy. Aya shut his eyes, clenching the fist that wasn't holding the flowers. The woman laid a hand on his arm, and he opened his eyes to look at her.   
She didn't say anything-- she didn't need to. She just touched his arm for a minute, and then continued to lead him down the hallway. As they passed more rooms, one figure inside caught his eye. It was a little girl, lying motionless on the bed. She looked very alone, surrounded by the relatively large hospital bed, with a white sheet tucked all around her.   
He stopped short in front of the door. The nurse stopped as well, puzzled. Aya pointed through the window and asked quietly, "Who's that?"   
The nurse reached up to get the medical file in the slot near the door. Flipping through it, she replied, "Kusaragi Hisae. Coma."   
Coma. Something resurfaced in Aya's mind, something that had been pushed out by the visit to the hospital. "Coma? Like the recent episodes with the teenagers?"   
The nurse glanced at him sideways for a moment. "No. Though why that interests you, I'm not sure. It's a horrible thing-- I hope whatever it is that's causing these boys to collapse is taken care of soon. No-- this girl has nothing to do with the attacks."   
"May I go in?"   
"Sure. She has no family-- there hasn't been anyone to visit her at all."   
Aya opened the door and crossed the room to the girl's bedside, sitting down in a chair next to her. "No family? But she has to have someone-- someone had to take care of her . . ."   
"Oh, here it is-- she has an older brother, and he was the one who took care of her. But no one has been able to find him to tell him about his sister. He's just disappeared."   
Aya picked up the little girl's hand, noticing how lifeless and limp it was. "What happened?"   
The nurse looked through the file, and made a low humming noise under her breath. "Says here she's been in a coma for a few days now. Apparently, she was hit by a car-- a shame, it was her birthday, too."   
Aya froze. The woman continued talking, oblivious. "The report says that she had been on the crosswalk when the light changed. Several people reported seeing a young boy whose description might possibly match that of her older brother there with her, but didn't think to look for him until after the girl was safely on her way to the hospital. He wasn't anywhere to be found, though, when they did finally look.   
Aya forced himself to swallow, looking down at the girl's face.   
The nurse sighed. "It's horrible, I know. But it says here that she's been showing signs of waking up any day now."   
Aya didn't reply. _Aya-chan 'showed signs of waking up' at first too. But she didn't wake up for years. This little girl . . . she can't be more than six years old. How . . ._   
The nurse stood up. "I have to get back to the desk, now . . . do you want to stay here a little longer?" The nurse must not have been oblivious as she had first seemed, because she was looking at Aya with a mixture of concern and pity.   
Aya nodded silently. As the nurse opened the door to leave, he looked up. "Th-thank you," he called out hesitantly.   
The woman smiled. "You're welcome, sir-- You know what? You never said your name."   
"Ah­ Ran. I'm Ran."   
Her smiled widened. "Ran . . . a nice name for someone like you." Before Aya could ask her to explain what she meant by that, she had slipped out the door.   
"Wait!" Aya called. "You never told me yours!"   
Faintly, he heard a call coming back to him. "Reika!"   
Aya blinked. "Reika . . ." Then he looked back down at the little girl in the bed. He put the vase of flowers on her bedside table and then sat back down in the chair he'd pulled up to the bed. "What happened, Hisae?" he murmured, his brows furrowed. "Why did your brother disappear right after your accident, and never even come to see you?"   
He had a brief flash of a young, redheaded teenaged boy stumbling through the rain, his eyes burning with anguished fire, an old katana clutched tightly in his hand-- _Takatori . . ._   
Aya closed his eyes, pushing the memory away. Glancing back down at the girl, he saw her face twitch slightly. Was this what the doctors had ben talking about when they had said 'signs of waking up?' Or had they just been trying to reassure anyone who visited her? Not that it did much good, anyway . . .   
Had Aya-chan sat all alone in the hospital, just like this, trying her hardest to wake up and only being able to move her face just a tiny bit?   
"Oniichan . . ."   
Aya's eyes widened, and he snapped his gaze back to the girl on the bed. Her eyes were half open, and she was staring at the ceiling blearily.   
"Hisae?" he murmured. "Y-you . . ."   
"Oniichan?" she asked hopefully, turning towards him. Then her face fell as she focused better. "Where's oniichan?"   
"He's . . ." Aya hesitated. "He's busy right now. Is there something you need?" For some reason, something deep in his chest was tugging at him.   
_Pity?_   
Hisae shook her head weakly. "No, I want my oniichan."   
"He can't come right now. But I might be able to find him, if you . . . can you tell me what happened, Hisae? Hisae . . .chan?"   
The little girl's eyes were shadowed. "Oniichan was gonna buy me ice cream," she mumbled.   
Aya nodded, taking hold of the little girl's hand again.   
"We were crossing the street, but we looked both ways and made sure the crosswalk sign was lit up, just like he always says." She paused, tiredly, but then looked up at Aya and continued. "And then when we were in the middle of the street, oniichan just stopped moving. He-- he wouldn't listen to me, I tried to get him to move-- the cars were gonna come--" Her voice quit suddenly, and her eyes filled with frightened tears.   
Aya squeezed her hand softly. "It's okay. You don't need to tell me." The little girl was making him feel very strange. It was as if Aya-chan was little again.   
"No, I want my oniichan back!" said the little girl fiercely. She took a deep breath and went on. "And then he yelled, and fell down. And the cars started coming, and I tried to pull him away, but--" Her eyes widened. "Did he get hit? Is he alright?" Her voice in intensity, and she clutched at Aya's arm.   
"No, he didn't get hit," he reassured her quickly, wondering about what she had said. It sounded an awful lot like the attacks that were somehow linked with Schwartz-- and those yellow eyes. "He's just not in right now," Aya added.   
She frowned. "Who are you?"   
He paused, hesitating. "One of your brother's friends," he said eventually.   
"Oh. Alright then." There was a comfortable silence for a while, before Hisae said quietly, "He whispered something, before the cars came," she said quietly.   
Aya almost didn't hear her. He leaned forward just a bit, and asked just as quietly, "What did he say?"   
She bit her lip. "He said 'The graveyard-- they're meeting at the graveyard . . .' and then I don't remember any more."   
_The graveyard?_ Aya was puzzled. If indeed this was the work of Schwartz, what were they doing in a graveyard? And how come the Schwartz were only clouds of shadow, while Aya and the rest had perfectly functioning bodies once again?   
The door opened then, and a nurse rushed in. Aya looked up, but it wasn't Reika. She was probably back at her desk. "She's awake?" the nurse asked incredulously. "Please, sir, move-- we need to examine her, make sure she's alright . . . she's tired . . ."   
Hisae let out a low cry. "I don't want him to go! He's gonna help me find my oniichan! I don't want to be here by myself!"   
Aya stood up, letting go of the child's hand gently. "Don't worry, Hisae," he said, smiling one of his rare smiles. "I'll come back to visit you again, alright?"   
Hisae's large, dark eyes were wide. "Promise?"   
Aya smiled again. "I promise." And then he turned and left the room, heading back towards the entrance. As he passed the reception desk, Reika smiled and nodded to him as he left. "Come back soon, okay, Ran? We need more people like you."   
Whether he was still being affected by Hisae's need or something else entirely, Aya found himself smiling back. He nodded once, and then ducked out the door. The young woman watched him leave, a faintly troubled expression on her face.   
  
  
  
  
"Aya-kun, you're back!" Omi looked like he might have been about to cry. "You took so long that we got worried, I thought you'd been caught!"   
Aya shook his head and sat down, crossing his legs at the ankles. He looked rather thoughtful.   
Youji popped over the back of the chair, startling Aya into actually having an expression for a moment. "So what's wrong?" Before Aya could protest, Youji shook his head. "No, no, you can't hide it from us. Something happened this time. What was it?"   
Ken nodded, pulling the computer stool over to the armchair so he could sit down. "Yeah, you look kind of thoughtful. More so than usual, anyway."   
Omi flopped down onto the ground at Aya's feet and nodded as well. "Come on. Tell us."   
Finally, Aya caved and told them what had happened at the hospital. After a brief silence, Youji let out a low whistle.   
"Damn . . ."   
No one really had anything else to say. Finally, Omi said thoughtfully, "It sounds a whole lot like those attacks on the teenaged boys."   
Ken nodded, frowning slightly. "But . . . why didn't they find him? Do you think he survived, and isn't in a coma like the others?"   
Aya shook his head. "No, I don't think so. If he was alive, he would have come to find his sister."   
Youji raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure? He might not know where--"   
_"He'd be able to find her!"_   
There was silence for a while. They'd rarely seen Aya raise his voice like that, except when bent on revenge. Finally, Youji pushed himself off the back of the chair and leaned against the wall, taking out a cigarette and lighting it. "I'll trust you on this one," he said quietly.   
Aya didn't respond. Omi stood up as well, glancing towards the darkened television screen as if he could still see the video clip he'd lifted from Manx's apartment. "Maybe . . ." he began quietly. "Maybe . . ."   
"Maybe?" asked Ken, curiously.   
Omi blinked, as if surprised that he had spoken out loud. "What? Oh, no, it's stupid."   
But Youji was watching Omi with narrowed eyes. "No, you've thought of something . . .what is it? You're thinking about Schwartz, aren't you? How can they still be alive . . . ?"   
Omi snapped his fingers. "That's it! That's it! Oh, Youji, I could kiss you--" he paused for a moment. "Ahh . . . but I don't think I will." With that, he scrambled out of the room.   
Youji blinked, watching him go. "Er . . . was it something I said?"   
  
  
  
  
When the others found Omi he was in his room, poring over a map, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth.   
Ken leaned over his shoulder. "What? What've you found, Omi?"   
Omi was muttering under his breath. "I see . . . I see! Oh, it's just so simple . . ."   
Ken frowned. "Omi! Tell us, too!"   
Omi was either ignoring him or truly couldn't hear him. "It's so obvious . . . staring us right in the face, and it's _us_, too . . ." He found the page he was looking for and glanced over it quickly. Then, grabbing a nearby pencil, he circled something on the map.   
A vein was twitching in Ken's forehead. "Omi . . ."   
Youji reached over Omi's shoulder and plucked the map from his grasp. Omi made a half-hearted grab for it, but gave up. Youji was a lot taller than him, after all, even as an angel. Youji peered at the map, asking curiously, "The graveyard? So this is . . .oh, like Aya said. 'They're meeting me in the graveyard . . .' So you think that Hisae-chan's brother will go there?"   
Omi shook his head. "No . . . well, yes, but no."   
Aya, leaning against the wall rolled his eyes. "Stop speaking in riddles. If we're supposed to understand, speak more clearly."   
Omi took a deep breath. "I don't know what they're doing--"   
"Who?" Ken's brow was furrowed. He looked as if he knew exactly who Omi was talking about, but didn't want to be the first to say it.   
"Schwartz."   
"But how can they be doing anything?" asked Ken, bewildered and slightly angry that Omi was being so ambiguous. "They're dead! Unless . . . do you think they survived, somehow?"   
Omi shook his head quickly. "No . . ."   
"Then--!" Ken began, shouting, but Youji raised a hand and cut him off. He was looking very hard at Omi.   
"I think I understand . . ."   
"Understand what?!" Ken stomped his foot in frustration.   
Youji glanced at Ken. "Schwartz _is_ dead. But Ken-- aren't we _also_ dead?"   
Ken stared back at Youji, and then at Omi. "But--" he murmured. "But . . ."   
Aya's eyes narrowed slightly. "We're dead, yes, but back as angels . . . why would Schwartz become angels?"   
Youji snorted. "You know, we weren't exactly 'angelic' in life either, Aya . . . We were assassins. Never forget that."   
Something twitched in Aya's expression, just above his eyebrow. But before he could respond, Omi cut in. "I never said they were angels."   
Everyone's gaze swivelled towards him.   
"They're-- they're demons."   
  
  
  
  
"But Aya! We don't know what we'll find there--" Omi slipped a little on the mud, and stopped speaking as he regained his footing.   
Aya ignored him, continuing down the deserted sidewalk, his trench-coat swirling around his ankles. The hilt of the katana at his waist glinted sullenly in the lamplight.   
Youji was the only one who didn't have to trot to keep up with the pace Aya had set, his long legs easily out-stripping the redhead. "He's right, Aya . . . this is rather hasty."   
Ken nodded, jogging a little and then dropping back into a walk. "And it's not the best weather to pick a fight with a pack of demons, either . . ." He glanced up at the sky, the icy rain stinging his upturned face.   
"It doesn't matter." Aya didn't turn around to look at him. He seemed angry, almost. "You three can stay behind, if you want. I never said you had to come."   
"Don't be an idiot, Aya," scoffed Youji. "You can't expect us to sit on our asses at the shop while you prance around out here and have all the fun. Anyway, I think I might have an inkling of what you're thinking about. So you think that these newly born demons have kidnapped that girl's older brother. Hmm . . . but why? What for?"   
Aya didn't answer; his expression was not unlike the one he wore when he used to contemplate the Takatori family.   
Youji watched him out of the corner of his eye as the other two boys sped up a bit more to follow. "Hmm . . . kidnaping . . ." Suddenly, his eyes widened. "You-- you can't think--!" Youji took a deep breath and closed his eyes, pushing his sunglasses further on his nose. "So, you think they're planning to use him in some sort of ritual, like those old people were gonna use Aya-chan, right? It makes sense . . ."   
Omi was puzzled. "Youji-kun, how come you know all this stuff? It's creepy . . . like you're reading Aya's mind."   
Youji glanced over his shoulder. "Nah, it just makes sense . . . Why else would he be affected so much? I've spent enough time with you all that I can figure you all out pretty well."   
Aya's fists clenched. "I'm going to bring that boy back. That little girl needs her brother . . . needs him . . ."   
The other three boys looked at him in surprise, almost as if they had forgotten he was there. "Aya . . ."   
Aya's eyes were full of fury. "She . . . she was hit by that car, because of Schwartz . . ." Aya glanced at the other three as they listened. "There was one thing that happened at the hospital that I didn't tell you."   
"What?" asked Ken quietly.   
"She-- it was her birthday."   
The others stopped trying to convince him to wait, and the four assassins continued down the street in silence.   
The houses lining the streets were getting fewer and more spaced out. Just then, the sky was lit up for an instant by a flash of lightning tearing the sky, followed by a low rumble of thunder. The brief light revealed the shape of a church steeple just ahead-- and next to and behind the church, the semi-rectangular shapes of tombstones.   
They reached the gate, and Youji reached out to push it open. It swung open silently, and the four angels stepped inside. As another flash of lighting illumined the sky, they glanced around the graveyard. It was completely empty-- and there was nothing to signify that anyone was there at all. Aya's hand tightened around the hilt of his sort. "Damn . . ." he whispered. "She was wrong. She heard wrong."   
As they set out to search the graveyard, a piece of paper fluttered down from the sky, somehow untouched by the rain. Aya reached up to snatch it from the wind, and the other three gathered around him to read it.   
  
  
_**You all thought you were so clever, didn't you? Give up and go back to your flowery heaven, little angels.**_   
--S  
  
  
  
  


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Fallen Angels, by Tori: email me at saezuru@hotmail.com 


	3. 

~ f a l l e n a n g e l s ~

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**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Weiß or it's characters (ohhh, though I wish I did...) so don't sue me. You wouldn't get anything... I have no money! This story takes place after the end of the TV series, but since I haven't gotten to see the OVAs (;_;) it doesn't have anything from there in it.**  
**C&C is very welcome! I always want feedback, even if it's just dropping a line and saying, 'Hey, I read your fic.' Email me at saezuru@hotmail.com if you want to say anything. Thanks for reading!**

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f a l l e n a n g e l s  
a weiß kreuz fanfiction  
part three   


  
  
  
  
  
Sakura Tomoe sighed, staring up at the ceiling. In the next room, she could hear Aya-chan climb into bed and turn off the lamp. After a few moments, Sakura's ears adjusted to the ringing silence and picked out the faint sound of Aya's slow breathing, rhythmic and indicative of sleep. _She's so lucky . . . I wish I could fall asleep that quickly at night._   
She'd offered to share her apartment with Aya-chan since the poor girl didn't have anywhere to live, and Aya had eagerly agreed. After all, the girl didn't know anyone-- her family was dead, her friends didn't know her anymore, and the only one she could talk to was Sakura . . . __   
_her family is dead . . ._   
There had been something, earlier today. Something . . . if only she could remember . . .   
_She'd seen a flash of deep red hair. Her hopes rising, she nearly dropped the half-arranged flower bouquet she was holding. _Aya?_ She'd only dared to think the thought in the echoes of her mind._   
_There _was_ someone . . . standing just outside the flower shop, looking back over his shoulder. Sakura had to concentrate to look at him. Her eyes kept sliding around him as water against oil . . . _why _couldn't she focus?_   
_And then, he saw her. She knew it was him-- she knew that gaze better than she knew her own heart. That beautiful stare, so cold and calm on the outside, but with such depths to it that she'd never be able to unlock . . . she could lose herself for hours within those eyes . . ._   
_And suddenly,_ _he was gone, and she was already chattering with her customer again. Had she been imagining it? No, she couldn't have been-- she'd never be able to recreate his eyes in her feeble imagination . . ._   
Sakura closed her eyes, her heart thumping painfully. She was startled to realize that closing her eyes caused a few burning tears to leak out from the corners of her eyes and trickle slowly down her temples. "I know it was him," she murmured aloud. "But . . . how come I couldn't see him, focus on him? Why hasn't he come to see me and Aya-chan?"   
_Maybe . . . was he a ghost? No, but he'd seemed so solid!_ Sakura sighed and rolled over. She'd have to think about it tomorrow. But try as she might, it took her a long time to finally fall asleep.   
  
  
  
"No, I don't _want_ any! For the last time!" Sakura's temper snapped.   
Aya-chan's hands, curled around the handle of the juice pitcher, faltered, and her eyes were wide. "S-S-Sorry, Sakura-chan, I--"   
"No, no . . ." Sakura shook her head and rested it on her hands. "It's my fault, I shouldn't have snapped at you . . . I'm just tired." That much, at least, _was_ true-- it'd taken her longer than usual to fall asleep the night before.   
Aya sat down carefully. She was still frail, even now, from her accident. "Is something wrong?" she asked softly.   
Sakura glanced towards the other girl. Like always, it was like looking at a mirror for a second-- but one of those mirrors that has other features painted on. Like long hair, for example. And a softer expression. Aya had always had the uncanny ability to tell when something was wrong. Sakura quickly shook her head, although she knew that if Aya-chan was determined, the truth would be out in a second. "No, nothing wrong. Just . . . tired, that's all."   
Aya looked at her for a second, her eyes troubled. "Are you sure? All yesterday evening you seemed preoccupied. Did something happen?"   
Sakura was startled-- she never knew that Aya had watched her that much. She hesitated, not sure if telling Aya what she'd seen would upset her or not.   
"Please tell me," asked the older girl, her dark eyes concerned. They were so much like Ran's eyes . . .   
Sakura told her, stumbling a little bit when she had to tell about how she knew it was him. When she was done, she sat still in her chair, fiddling with a little bit of toast. For all she knew, Aya-chan could get angry, or burst into tears, or--   
Aya smiled softly. Sakura gaped. Aya's smile widened, and she put a hand over Sakura's. "The people we love appear to us in many ways," she said softly. "If they can't come to us in person, they'll send their spirit." Aya looked down at her lap for a moment, hesitating, as if she wasn't sure whether she would say something or not. "Sometimes," she began slowly, "Sometimes I think I see my oniichan too. I think he must be watching over us, like-- like a sort of guardian angel." And then Aya flushed bright pink. "Ah-- never mind, i-it's stupid--"   
Sakura shook her head. "No, it's not stupid! I think it's-- I think you're right. But this time . . . this time was different, Aya-chan. He-- he was _looking_ at me. And he seemed startled to see me. Would a guardian angel be startled? I don't know . . ." Something triggered and caught in the back of Sakura's mind. _Guardian angel . . ._   
Aya reached out and covered Sakura's hand with her own. "Don't worry about it, Sakura-chan. I'm sure oniichan has his reasons." And then she smiled, a bright, sunny smile.   
Sakura found herself echoing the smile, and stood up. "Well, nearly time to open the shop, isn't it?"   
Aya nodded. "Hai!"   
  
  
  
  
_Crash!_   
Dismayed, Sakura surveyed the wreckage of the vase. That was the second one she'd knocked over today, she'd been so preoccupied. She apologized to the customer, who winced but reassured her that it was fine. Aya-chan came over and laid her hand gently on Sakura's shoulder. "Are you alright, Sakura-chan?" she asked worriedly, her pale brow wrinkled slightly in concern.   
Sakura nodded hurriedly. "Fine. Tired, like I said earlier."   
Aya's eyes were troubled. "Are you sure?"   
"Of course!"   
"Really sure?"   
Sakura hesitated. There were times when she wondered just how well Aya knew her. "Y-yeah . . . I'm just not concentrating well."   
"Tell you what," said Aya as she brought the dustbin and broom over to clean up the shards of the ceramic vase. "You take a break for a while, I'll keep the shop."   
"But--"   
"No buts!" Aya could be quite stubborn, despite her frailty. "Look, you're just being a bother more than you're helping, anyway."   
How well _did_ Aya know her, exactly? To anyone else, that might have seemed like an insult. But to Sakura, it was logic-- in her scattered mental state, she truly was more of a bother than a help. But still . . . "Are you sure? You can run it by yourself?"   
Aya-chan nodded reassuringly. "It's only for a little while. Go on, gather your thoughts. I have days like that too."   
Sakura sighed, and smiled slightly. "Well, alright. If you're _sure_."   
"Positive."   
Sakura smiled once more, and then wandered off down the rows of flowers. Where was she going to go? On a whim, she found herself heading towards the stairway leading down towards where the four boys had once held their secret headquarters.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
Omi sighed forlornly. "It's not working . . . the only graveyard for miles and miles is the one we visited last night!"   
Aya shook his head. "No, there's got to be more. That's what she _said_."   
Omi sighed again and rubbed at his temples. "I know, Aya-kun . . . but it's true!"   
Aya's eyes hardened perceptibly. "Omi, look again. Schwartz has to have some trick up their sleeve."   
Omi frowned. "Look, Aya, I know you want to believe that girl . . . but think about it. She's only a very little girl, and she could have easily gotten confused by the oncoming traffic. There isn't any way that boy could have suddenly known what Schwartz was up to in the middle of that traffic, told his sister, and then somehow gotten out of the accident and walked away. It's just not possible."   
Youji, lounging on the couch as usual, spoke up. "How do you know?"   
Omi glanced behind him, towards Youji. "Eh?" he asked, confused.   
"Lots of things aren't possible," the older man drawled, a slight smile on his face. He waved a hand in the air, negligently gesturing at everything, including them. "We're not possible, really. Us being dead, and all."   
"But--"   
"We're not possible to normal people, of course," Youji added.   
He was irritating Omi greatly. "Youji . . . just stop it, okay? We've had a long night. You're talking nonsense."   
Youji sat up, swinging his long legs down onto the floor. "No, I mean it. If you asked a normal person, they'd say that we're impossible, because we're technically dead. How do we know that whatever Schwartz is doing is within our conceived realm of possibility?"   
Omi was startled into silence, but Ken spoke up instead. "Go on," he said cautiously. "I have a feeling you might think of something that would help make sense of this whole mess."   
Youji paused for a moment, before saying slowly and thoughtfully, "I haven't thought it out completely yet . . . for one thing, if they're demons and we're angels, which are technically supposed to be equal entities, how come we have bodies and they don't?"   
"That's assuming that shadow we saw in the film _was_ one of their bodies," Aya said quietly.   
Youji frowned at him. "Hmm?"   
Aya stood up and walked slowly across the room, his face impassive as usual. "It might have been some sort of mental projection of them."   
Thoughtful silence fell, as they all tried to make sense of it. Then Youji broke the heavy quiet by clapping a hand on Omi's shoulder, startling the younger boy. "Well," he said, flashing a charming smile at the youngest member of the group, "I think we can depend on Omi to figure all this out. He's the one with the computer."   
Omi leveled him a flat look, and Youji grinned widely. After a moment or two, Omi gave up and drooped a little. "Sure, sure, whatever you say. I'll get right to it."   
Ken, sitting near the stairs, suddenly lifted his head. "Shh!" he said abruptly, and immediately the others fell silent. In response to their puzzled glances, Ken gestured at the stairway. Then the noise he had heard came again-- the doorknob turning, creaking with disuse.   
"Shit!" hissed Youji. "Hurry, hide," he whispered.   
"Hide?" Aya asked, amused. "Remember who we are, you dolt. We're not little kids caught using our parents' car or anything."   
The look on Youji's face spoke volumes. "Oh," he said simply. All four boys drew back into the corners of the room, concentrating mentally on not being seen.   
Soon, footsteps could be heard, coming slowly down the stairs. Sakura paused at the bottom, her hand resting lightly on the handrail. Her eyes swept the room briefly, and her face was slightly pained. She walked into the room and tried the light switch-- _Omi concentrated briefly on blocking the wiring of the room, using his talent_-- and the light didn't work. "After all, no one's been down here in a while," she murmured aloud. She sat down on the couch and ran her fingers over the worn cloth. "Now, he would have sat here . . . just like--" she leaned back and lounged, much like Youji did. In his corner, Youji winced and made a mental note to change positions once and a while. When the girl did it, his usual pose looked very strange. "Just like this," she repeated, a faint smile tracing her lips. Manx had talked so much about the four boys that Sakura felt almost as if it had been she who had been their secretary all those long months, not Manx.   
"And standing by the stairs, Ken . . ." She glanced at the stairs with a smile, and Ken stiffened-- but she didn't see him.   
"And over there . . ." She stood up and crossed over to the desk, on which used to sit the computer. "Omi would have sat here." And she sat down backwards on the chair, leaning against the back with her chin. "And Youji would force him mercilessly to do all the researching, while the rest of them slept." She laughed briefly, the sound echoing slightly in the seemingly empty room.   
Youji's expression grew slighty chagrined as he stiffened in annoyance, trying to ignore the way Omi was smirking at him from across the room.   
She sat in the chair for a while and then looked towards the opposite wall, where Aya was still leaning. "And . . . Aya-kun would stand there, looking like he usually did." Sakura's eyes narrowed slightly, and her brow was puzzled. She leaned forward, almost squinting. Aya's eyes widened, and he began to concentrate even harder and avoiding being seen. Soon, Sakura stood up and started towards the stairs. "Well," she said slowly, "Aya-chan was right . . . I do sort of feel better for having taken a bit off. I should--" she paused. "Oh! Of course! I know where he'd go!" And with that, she took off up the stairs and through the door at a run.   
The four boys relaxed their concentrations, and exchanged four equally puzzled glances as they listened to her footsteps fade away.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
Reika watched, puzzled, as the girl rested her hands on her knees, breathing heavily. She'd come into the hospital at a full sprint, and then just stood there trying to catch her breath. At first Reika had thought there was some sort of emergency, but then, the girl had come into the main entrance and not the emergency room entrance.   
"Can . . . Can I help you?" she asked, raising her voice a little.   
The girl looked up and straightened, walking over towards the counter. "Well, actually, I'm looking for someone-- I think he might have come here."   
"Why do you think that? If there was a patient he would have seen, maybe I can check to see if they've had any visitors . . ."   
The girl paused. "Well, no . . . there used to be someone here that he would visit, but he made such regular visits that I'm sure he would have at least come once."   
Reika tilted her head to one side. "What's his name? Maybe I'll recognize it."   
"Aya Fujimiya," the girl replied hopefully.   
"Aya Fujimiya. . ." Reika repeated thoughtfully. "No, there hasn't been anyone here by that name lately." She stopped, and then turned to the computer. "Hold on a second . . .?"   
"Sakura," supplied the girl. "Sakura Tomoe."   
"Alright. Hold on a moment, his name sounds familiar." The nurse's fingers flew over the keyboard for a few seconds before she leaned back in triumph. "Fujimiya Aya. It says coma . . ." she paused. "He wasn't one of those recent coma victims, was he?" Without waiting for an answer, she read on. "Oh, wait . . . this isn't recent. Let's see . . . transferred to another hospital . . . wait a second." She looked up, puzzled, meeting Sakura's eyes steadily. "It says here that Aya Fujimiya is a sixteen year old girl."   
Sakura blinked. "Oh . . . that's right." She sagged visibly. "Never mind, then. Thanks for your help, anyway." She turned to go.   
"W-Wait!" called Reika, raising her hand towards the girl. She had looked so desperate, and then so crestfallen, that Reika couldn't ignore her request. "It can't just be coincidence, can it? That there would be two Aya Fujimiya's associated with this hospital?"   
Sakura stopped, glancing back over her shoulder. "No, he was her brother. The man I'm looking for, anyway. Aya wasn't his real name, it was his sister's."   
Reika's eyes softened. "That's so sweet of him-- to keep his sister's memory alive by using her name." As an afterthought, she asked curiously, "What about his sister, though? Did she ever wake back up again?"   
Sakura smiled slightly. "Yeah, she did. But . . . Aya never saw her smile again. He died."   
Reika raised an eyebrow. "And yet . . . you're looking for him?"   
Sakura flushed. "Well," she said quickly, "I thought I saw him. And I didn't actually see him die, I just assumed-- I mean, he drowned, and . . ."   
Reika sighed and nodded. "I understand now. Sakura-san, you have to learn to let go. We have classes associated with the hospital for dealing with grief--"   
"That's not it!" Sakura was quick to respond. Then she shrugged. "Never mind. Ran obviously didn't come here. Thank you for your help." And then she slipped out of the door, before Reika could say anything.   
The young nurse sighed slightly, remorsefully. She was new to this job-- she hadn't learned yet to keep a detached outlook on things. If she went around getting herself involved with every person in denial that came by . . . She stopped short, freezing in place, her mind working furiously. What was it that the girl had said, just before she left? '_Ran obviously didn't come here . . .'_   
Ran. The name of the man that had come here earlier, and taken such an interest in the coma patients in intensive care. Ran, the man that had used his sister's name, Aya, when she was lost in a coma. It was too, too convenient . . . Reika turned excitedly to the computer, ready to look up Sakura Tomoe's address so that she could tell her. And for the second time, she paused, her fingers frozen over the keyboard. Hadn't Sakura mentioned . . . something about seeing Ran, or Aya, or whatever his name was, drown? Drowning . . . Something that had been nagging at Reika all day, since Ran's visit, finally clicked into place. She stood up slowly, a horrible chill running down her spine. A while back, she'd spent part of her training internship at the morgue. Something wasn't quite right.   
"Azaki-san!" she called towards the back of the room. "I . . . er, my father called, and needs me to help him with something." She made up the excuse on the spot nervously, knowing that she wasn't a good liar. She felt her face heating up and turned her head away, but didn't need to-- the older woman called back distractedly, probably without actually listening to the newest nurse, "Oh, alright, but don't be gone long."   
Reika wasted no time in collecting her bag and jacket from under the counter and slipping through the glass doors of the hospital lounge.   
She hurried the three blocks to the city morgue, trying to remember exactly what it was that was drawing her to the dreary place, but unable to picture it clearly in her mind. As she entered through the rusty doors, the man behind the desk called out, "H-Hey, miss! I need some identification, please."   
She flipped her hospital ID towards him and he leaned back again into his chair. Once reassured, he took no notice of her and waved her distractedly towards the back rooms. Reika went through the doors and turned towards the wall with the more recent cases. The particular one she was looking for had grabbed her attention for quite a few reasons, not the least of which the peculiar circumstances of death. There had been eight young men, all drowned in the same place on the same night. They had washed up on the shores eventually, and were taken to the morgue immediately. Reika scanned the labels on the drawers until she came to one that read "Fujimiya." Reika swallowed; her mouth was suddenly and inexplicably dry. She steeled her nerve and grasped the handle, and began to slide the drawer out into the room, not knowing what she was going to find.   
Whatever she was expecting, it didn't happen-- there was indeed a body there, as it should be, and it was definitely quite dead-- she could see that even through the sheet covering it. No vampires or zombies or anything of the sort. The card very clearly read that the victim had died several weeks ago and that the cause of death had indeed been drowning, as she had remembered. Reika almost breathed a sigh of relief and pushed the drawer back in, when something made her pause briefly and pull back the edge of the sheet. The face beneath it, its skin the near-transparent color of death, its eyes closed almost serenely, was the face of Ran Fujimiya, the quiet, healthy young man who had brought flowers to the little girl in the hospital that morning.   
  
  
  


* * *

Fallen Angels, by Tori: email me at saezuru@hotmail.com 


	4. 

~ f a l l e n a n g e l s ~ **DISCLAIMER: I don't own Weiß or it's characters (ohhh, though I wish I did...) so don't sue me. You wouldn't get anything... I have no money! This story takes place after the end of the TV series, but since I haven't gotten to see the OVAs (;_;) it doesn't have anything from there in it.**  
**C&C is very welcome! I always want feedback, even if it's just dropping a line and saying, 'Hey, I read your fic.' Email me at saezuru@hotmail.com if you want to say anything. Thanks for reading!**  
  
  


f a l l e n a n g e l s  
a weiß kreuz fanfiction  
part four   
  
  
  


  
The four boys relaxed their concentrations and exchanged equally puzzled glances as they listened to Sakura's footsteps fade away up the steps.   
Youji was the first to speak. "Why, that little . . . I could just--"   
Omi started to laugh. "Youji-kun . . . she was right, you know! You do that to me even when we're _dead_."   
Youji glowered at the youngest member of the group, and then conveniently changed the subject. "Anyway, what was she talking about just now? _'I know where he'd go,'_ she said."   
Omi shrugged. "I've got no idea what it was-- or even _who_ she was talking about."   
Ken glanced at Aya out of the corner of his eye. The older young man was still leaning against the wall, his face emotionless and immobile. Ken sighed, and asked, "The only 'he' that Sakura would be talking about down here is Aya-kun. But she _knows_ we're all dead, so why would she be looking for him?"   
Youji's eyes narrowed as he leveled a flat stare at Aya. "There's something you're not telling us, isn't there?" It was more of a statement than a question.   
Aya raised an eyebrow-- nothing more. "She might have seen me yesterday," he said quietly.   
Omi's eyes widened. "What? Aya, that's--"   
Aya interrupted smoothly. "But I was sure that I left before she saw who it was. At most, she probably just thinks that I was there. She'll forget about it soon."   
"But--"   
Youji broke in. "Omi, calm down. There's no evidence anywhere that any of us are here. And there's _plenty_ of evidence that we're dead. So you see? There's no way . . ." His voice trailed off, staring into the corner where Aya was standing. The other two boys looked at Youji for a few moments, puzzled, before their gazes swivelled towards the red-headed man. He was no longer lounging against the wall-- he was standing up straight, and his eyes were widened slightly. For a minute, his mouth worked soundlessly.   
Youji blinked in surprise. "Aya? What's wrong? All I said was that there was no evidence--"   
Aya took a step forward, his mind obviously racing. Again his mouth opened and closed­ finally, he blurted, "Sh-Shit!" And with that, he jumped the over the banister to the stairs and sprinted up and out of sight.   
A stunned silence hung in the air for a few moments, until Youji swayed backwards and gracefully flopped onto the couch. "Well . . . who wants to be the next one to go insane?" he asked jovially.   
Omi crossed the room to the stairs and looked up towards the door. "Where'd he go? What if he gets seen?"   
Youji ran a hand through his hair and pulled a slightly bent cigarette out of his pocket. "First of all, you take a deep breath and calm down. You're way too high-strung."   
Ken's face was troubled. "No, Youji, he's right . . . where _is_ Aya going?"   
Youji shrugged as he lit the cigarette and leaned back. "What that blockhead does in his spare time is his own business. What does it matter?"   
Ken glanced nervously towards the stairs. "I've got a really bad feeling about this . . ."   
  
  
  
  
  
  
Sakura sighed as she hurried back to the flower shop from her trip to the hospital. Aya-chan would sorely miss her help at the shop if she stayed away much longer, no matter what the cheerful girl said to reassure her. But somehow, the brief break did nothing to assuage the feeling gnawing at her. The bitter edge of disappointment cut at her deeply, and she shook her head. It wasn't the hospital's fault that Aya hadn't gone to visit.   
"Aya is dead!" Sakura said aloud to herself. "Dead! He _can't_ visit a hospital, idiot!" But despite her firm self-assurances, her eyes filled with tears and for the first time, she began to cry for him.   
On the opposite side of the street from Sakura, Aya walked quickly in the opposite direction, trying not to attract attention as he hurried on towards the hospital. Oblivious that the girl he was seeking was right across the street and walking in the direction he had just come, he continued on to the hospital. Entering the doors, he scanned the waiting room of the hospital. Neither Reika nor Sakura was there-- he breathed a sigh of relief. If the place Sakura had thought he was going had been the hospital, she could have come and met Reika, who would have most certainly recognized his description. Just to check and be sure, he asked at the desk. The woman there said that Reika had stepped out to help her father with something, and that she hadn't seen anyone fitting Sakura's description come in recently.   
Aya nodded and thanked the woman, hurrying back out the doors again. He'd better get back to the flower shop and explain to the other members . . . Aya winced in expectation. Even if Omi forgave him for running out like that and probably scaring the youngest boy half to death, Youji would never let him live it down for apparently running out after a girl . . .   
  
  
  
  
  
  
Youji let out a derisive snort. "Look, he's just going and running after some girl!" He grinned almost slyly. "Didn't know he had it in him, I have to admit."   
Omi shook his head earnestly, trying to get the eldest to see his point. "But Youji! What if he actually catches up to her? She'll see him, and then our whole cover will be blown!"   
Youji shrugged. "Aya's not stupid, at least not intellectually. Emotionally, he's a goddamn block of wood. But he's not stupid enough to endanger our situation here-- he'll think of something."   
Ken spoke up. "Youji, I've got a really bad feeling about it. I can't describe it-- there's something almost tugging at the base of my skull-- it's not a good feeling."   
Again, the eldest member shrugged nonchalantly. "Take a couple aspirin. You've probably just got a headache."   
Ken shook his head vigorously. "No, that's not it! It has to do with Aya-- when I think about him running off, it gets stronger. And when I think about something else, it sort of almost goes away."   
Youji frowned, puzzled, but Omi suddenly said, "Ken! What if it's your 'talent'? Like my new connection with electronics?" Youji nodded thoughtfully, and Ken raised an eyebrow.   
"My talent is getting a major headache when I think about Aya? Somehow, I don't think--"   
"No, silly!" Omi grinned. "I meant that what if it's some sort of foresight? Like, I don't know, maybe you know something bad is going to happen to Aya, so you have this ache in your--" Suddenly, all the color drained out of Omi's face as he realized what he had just said.   
Ken's mouth opened slightly as if to reject this idea, but then found he had no evidence to disprove it. "But . . ." he said, his face growing troubled.   
"Ehh!" blurted Omi, and he looked over at Youji. "S-Something bad's going to happen to Aya! We _have_ to go after him now!"   
Youji's face was grave, and all of the jovial nonchalance had disappeared. He sat up, extinguishing the cigarette against the bottom of his shoe and tossing it into the little ashtray on the table. "I think I'm going to have to admit defeat on this one," he said with seeming calm, but the other two had known him long enough to detect the slight edge of worry in his voice. "Let's go, before something _really_ has the chance to go wrong."   
At Ken's insistence, they paused long enough to pick up their weapons and store them unobtrusively about themselves, and headed quietly up the stairs and out of the flower shop.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
Reika had an expertly crafted expression of cheerful unconcern on her face as she reentered the hospital-- it wasn't hard, really. _You know what?_ she thought to herself absently, as she signaled to her co-workers that she'd come back, _I just talked yesterday to a man who's been dead for weeks, and now I'm sitting calmly at my desk, organizing patients' files. I think I'm losing it. _And strangely enough, that thought didn't phase her at all. It was as if she'd gone right past "shock" and straight into the "padded walls and no sharp objects" stage without the slightest resistance. She sat down in her chair by the counter, shoved the folder containing the information on Aya and the other three with him under her keyboard, and put her nurse's hat back on her head, tucking her short, dark hair in carefully.   
She found herself scanning the hospital lobby every so often, to see if she could catch a glimpse of red hair among the people entering and exiting the glass doors. She shook her head, ruefully. "It's not as if I'm attracted to the guy," she said to herself. "I'm just . . . kind of interested in him. Like I'd be interested in a traumatized cat." As she thought about that, she liked the comparison more and more. For even though she'd talked to him all of fifteen minutes, she'd gotten the irrepressible feeling that his almost creepily intense gaze wasn't entirely natural.   
_Not entirely natural? He's _dead,_ Reika!_ She laughed under her breath, a high, tinny, near-hysterical laugh. "I have to get a grip on myself," she murmured aloud.   
"Come again?" asked a warm voice just in front and a little to the right of her.   
Startled, Reika looked up. She hadn't noticed anyone approaching the desk when she'd been looking for that "Ran" guy, but she was rather distracted, to say the least, so maybe she missed it. Leaning almost lazily with one elbow on the counter, was a tall young man with an almost girlish slenderness, chin-length brown hair, and violet eyes that were peering amusedly back into her own. "E-Excuse me," Reika said, blinking a few times, "I didn't see you there." She paused, remembering that she was supposed to say something. "Oh-- can I help you?" What was distracting her now? There was _something_ about his face . . .   
"I was actually wondering what you were saying to yourself," he drawled with a grin, pushing up the sunglasses that were perched precariously on his nose. "But I suppose I'd be content with your name."   
There was a low, almost annoyed-sounding sigh from the left of the smooth young man. Reika nearly jumped-- she hadn't seen anyone beside the guy. The newcomer had short, sandy-blond hair and eyes almost exactly like the other one's, except in shape, and looked the exact picture of cherubic innocence. He couldn't be more than sixteen or seventeen; definitely the other man's junior by several years. "We don't have time for this," he whispered to the older one, who ignored him without even a glance in the boy's direction.   
"Well?" he asked, drawing Reika's attention back to him.   
"Oh . . . Reika. It's Reika."   
"Reika?" the first man asked, looking pleased. "That's a lovely name, to suit a lovely face." He leaned forward, grinning conspiratorily as he curved his hand around his mouth and whispered, "Well, Reika-- may I call you Reika?" Without waiting for a reply, he went on, "Don't tell them I asked you this, but are you over eighteen?"   
_"Youji!"_ said an exasperated voice to the right of the flirtatious one. "Didn't you hear Omi?" This came from yet another young man, this one dark-haired and scowling slightly, his hands in the pockets of a dark-brown leather jacket. His eyes, Reika noticed, were the exact color of those of the other two-- maybe they were brothers? No, they couldn't be. They looked too different . . .   
The one he'd called Youji straightened up and gave the third visitor, who looked to be of an age somewhere in between the first two, a slightly pained look. "I was just trying to be friendly, Ken-kun," he said a little testily.   
'Ken' rolled his eyes towards the ceiling briefly, and then turned back towards Reika, who was looking slightly dazed. "Don't pay any attention to Youji there. He's just a big idiot, really, behind the handsome face and all that smooth talking."   
Youji crossed his arms over his chest. "Che," he muttered, and then glanced towards Reika and gave her a quick wink, unseen by any of the other members of the group.   
"Anyway," began the blond-haired one, "we need to ask you a few questions . . . do you mind if we do?"   
Reika hesitated, her eyes taking in all three boys' faces. There was something hauntingly familiar about them, the memory _just_ beyond her reach. Unable to find a reason to deny them, she shrugged. "I'm pretty new here, so I might not have the answers you're looking for, and I can't tell you anything confidential. But you can go ahead and ask. "   
"I'll take care of this, Omi," said Youji, his easy-going manner subsiding somewhat. "I'll be serious," he added, when he saw the identical looks of skepticism on the faces of the other two. When they made no objections, Youji grinned triumphantly and leaned backwards against the counter, looking over his shoulder at her. "So. First things first: are you the usual person here? I mean, are you always the secretary, or whatever the job is, here at this time of day?"   
Reika nodded, hiding a smile. "Nurse, not secretary, though really there doesn't seem to be much difference as of yet. As I said, I'm new. And yes, this has been my shift for the past week or so. Before that--" She halted mid-sentence, and gave the three a suspicious look. "You aren't reporters, are you?"   
Youji rolled his eyes. "Reporters? Hel-- er, heck no." He nodded his head towards Omi briefly. "Two things: someone that young couldn't be a reporter. And also," he grinned widely, "you can trust a face this pretty, right?"   
"Youji . . ." said the one called Omi warningly.   
"All right, all right, I was just trying to get her more relaxed." He turned his gaze back upon Reika. "And she could definitely do with some relaxing," he said, his eyes narrowed somewhat. "You can feel the stress rolling off her in waves."   
No sooner had he said that than Reika actually felt a little better, a little less tense, a tiny bit more at ease. Almost enough to laugh at herself a little. She grinned, hesitantly. "I've . . . had a long day." _No kidding. Finding out you've been talking to dead people, going insane . . ._   
Youji raised an eyebrow, but didn't ask. Then, the look of easy indifference gone, he peered at her intently. "Have I met you somewhere before? You look really familiar, for some reason."   
Reika swallowed. She'd just been thinking the same thing-- not only did Youji look familiar, but the other two did as well. Some memory deep in the back of her mind was screaming at her, but it was as if there was some wall between it and her consciousness so that she couldn't hear anything but a muffled warning. She shook her head, a smile automatically coming to her face. "You're good," she murmured.   
Youji shrugged, grinning easily again. "Well, you honestly do. I never forget a pretty face after all." Before any of the others could take him to task for wasting time, he went on to ask, "So, what made you stop talking about yourself so suddenly? Where'd you work before here?"   
Reika shrugged slightly. "I'm only a . . . well, sort of a junior here. If I want to be a full time, fully _payed_ nurse, I have to do internships in the different sections of the hospital. Before this desk job I was down in the morgue."   
Youji leaned back a little, a distasteful expression on his face. "The morgue? A pretty little thing like you?" Without even looking at his friends, he said, "And calm down, you two, stop getting so annoyed." Reika distinctly saw them close their mouths, whatever it was they were going to say snatched right from their lips. Youji shook his head. "To think that they'd make girls have to deal with that sort of thing. Nasty business, if you ask me. Of course, I know a lot of men who would handle it a lot worse than the majority of womankind would. Your race is forever surprising us, you know." He paused, and then grinned sheepishly. "Don't let me get distracted anymore, okay, Reika?" The man had an unnerving ability to say her name like an endearment. _Probably due to lots of practice,_ thought Reika wryly. _Though despite the fact that you _know_ he's a play-boy just by the way he walks and talks, you can't help but like him._   
Youji added, echoing her thoughts, "Anyway, you can't help but like us, can you?" He either didn't notice the look of surprise on Reika's face, or ignored it, and went on. "So. You used to work in the morgue. But, now you're here. And you've been here for . . . what did you say? A week or so?"   
Reika nodded. "Mm-hmm. Where's this leading to?" The feeling tugging at her was getting stronger, and it was making her nervous. Usually she'd have liked to talk to these three-- they were all _distinctly_ good-looking-- but now, for some reason, she wanted them _out_ of her sight.   
Youji sighed. "Well, to tell the truth . . ." He paused, a sign that he most surely was _not_ going to speak truthfully. "To tell the truth, the three of us are florists."   
Reika looked blankly at him. "Florists."   
Youji nodded. "Florists." After a split-second, he added helpfully, "Meaning, we sell flowers."   
Reika blinked and shook her head. "I know, I just thought you were models or something."   
Youji laughed, with a self-deprecating shrug. "We've found we can sell flowers just as easily as we'd be able to sell pictures. And when we're selling our merchandise in person, we get to meet and greet the customers in person, as opposed to them looking at our pictures all by themselves. Works out better that way for everyone, right?"   
Reika felt herself smiling, despite the strange feeling of _wrongness _she was getting. "So what does that have to do with the hospital."   
"Ah," replied the self-proclaimed florist. "That's where things get ugly. You see, there's actually four of us, not three."   
"And where's the fourth person?"   
"He . . . hmm. Well, you see, he was never a very good worker. Didn't take care of the customers, you know the sort of thing. He just stood there sulking and looking disdainful the whole time." His voice was tragic, disappointed, but his violet eyes were sparkling mischievously.   
Ken's eyebrows went up a little. "Youji . . ." he said, softly.   
"Hush, Ken-kun. Let me finish our sad story." He patted him on the shoulder, which only served to make the younger guy bristle slightly. "So, anyway, this guy mooched off us horribly, never contributing what he was supposed to or anything. We all dealt with it, each of us taking on a little of the burden he was supposed to take to try to make it bearable for us." He sighed, then, dramatically. "But then, one day, he was gone."   
Reika, though skeptical, couldn't help but feel curiosity. "Gone?"   
Youji nodded mournfully. "Gone. We woke up to find all the money in the cash box gone, and his room locked from the inside. And when we finally got the door open, we discovered that the . . . the . . ." He seemed to be searching for a good word. "We discovered that the _loathsome_ traitor had slipped out the window, taking our savings with him. We put out a search, but no trace was found. We think he must have left the city."   
Reika resisted the urge to roll her eyes. This guy was enjoying himself to totally telling the story that he wasn't realizing how outrageously over-dramatic he was being. "And so? Again, what does that have to do with me and the hospital?"   
Youji leaned a little closer. "We have reason to believe that he would have visited here before leaving the city."   
Reika nodded, finally getting the gist of what he was asking. "And so you want to know if I've seen him. I get it. So, how long ago was this?"   
Youji paused, recalling the facts of his story. Managing to look a little sheepish, he said, "This morning."   
Reika bit her lip to keep from laughing. "This morning? You had time to search the city for him in just a few hours?"   
Youji's expression darkened a little. "They were quick searchers," he muttered sullenly.   
Omi broke in, giving Youji a hopeless look. "Excuse his dramatics, Miss Reika. But we really need to know where he's gone. He used to have a little sister here in the hospital, and he still has the habit of visiting here a lot even though she's been released."   
The sense of wrongness returned doubly strong, like déja vu but somehow backwards. "C-Can you describe him?"   
Omi suddenly gasped, and from his face, it looked as if someone had stepped on his foot, hard. "Yes-- you look worried about something," Youji asked, peering at her as if gauging her thoughts somehow. "But yes, we can describe him. He's tall, a little shorter than me, with short red hair and longer bits at the front. Eyes like mine. Sort of . . ." He trailed off, blinking at Reika.   
Her eyes were wide with horror. The wall on her memory had come crashing down, as she realized where she'd seen these three people before. They'd been alongside the man they were describing. The man that Reika now recognized as Ran Fujimiya, or as most people seemed to know him: Aya.   
Youji took a step back. "Uh-oh," he murmured distractedly, almost to himself.   
The other two looked back and forth from her to their companion in confusion. "Eh?" asked Ken, nudging Youji's arm with his elbow. "What's 'uh-oh'?"   
Youji was watching Reika as she slowly looked down at her desk, her hands reaching for a manila folder tucked under her keyboard. "She knows," he whispered. "I don't know how I know that she knows, or even know how she could know, but she knows."   
Ken blinked. "Am I the only one that really didn't follow that?"   
Before anyone had the chance to answer, Reika placed the folder on top of the counter, and took a step back from them, looking at them with something hard-- not quite challenge, but not fear either-- in her eyes. "Look--" she began, but stopped to clear her throat. "Look at that, and then try to tell me you're just looking for a thief."   
Ken reached out and picked up the folder, opening it quickly. Inside were four pieces of paper, each with photographs paper-clipped to them.   
Omi leaned over his shoulder, reading the information written on the paper. "Death certificates?" he asked, puzzled; then his eye caught the photographs. "O-Oh," he replied softly. "That's . . ."   
  
  
  
_Fallen Angels,_ by Tori-chan; email me at saezuru@hotmail.com 


	5. 

~ f a l l e n a n g e l s ~

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Weiß or it's characters (ohhh, though I wish I did...) so don't sue me. You wouldn't get anything... I have no money! This story takes place after the end of the TV series, but since I haven't gotten to see the OVAs (;_;) it doesn't have anything from there in it.**  
**C&C is very welcome! I always want feedback, even if it's just dropping a line and saying, 'Hey, I read your fic.' Email me at saezuru@hotmail.com if you want to say anything. Thanks for reading!**  
  
  
  
IMPORTANT: If you read Chapter Four of this story before April 13, 2001, please go re-read it before continuing. There was a problem with the HTML, and the last part of the chapter was cut off. Thank you to those who told me they were confused, or else I would never have noticed. Sorry for the mistake, and on with Chapter Five! ^_^  
  
  


f a l l e n a n g e l s  
a weiß kreuz fanfiction  
part five   
  
  
  


  
Aya slowed his pace somewhat. He needed a little time to think, a little time before he got back to the others so he could try to gather what information they had, and try to make a little sense out of what was going on, and what exactly he and the other three ex-assassins were supposed to be doing. As he passed a large office building, a sudden commotion on the opposite side of the street grabbed his attention.   
Someone let out a gasp, loud enough to almost be called a shriek, and although Aya couldn't see from his position what was in it, there was a widening circle around a space on the sidewalk. Steeling himself to prepare for, Aya began to run across the street towards the crowd; weird things tended to usually end up involving him and the rest of Weiß, so he might as well try to stay ahead of things.   
As he reached the crowd, he pushed his way through the shocked-seeming onlookers with little resistance. They didn't seem so much afraid of whatever was in the middle of the circle, just frightened _by _it, or what was happening to it. Aya reached an opening and shoved through to it, until he could see inside the circle.   
A young boy, younger even than Omi, was leaning heavily against the brick wall and clutching his head, muttering something desperately under his breath. Aya's mind drew a blank as to what to do-- as he stood there, staring at the figure, the boy lifted his head and looked at him for a moment. Even as Aya watched, he could see a sickly yellow color fading in and out of the boy's eyes before the boy's head dropped again. And suddenly, Aya knew what to do. Without pausing to think about it, he said loudly, "Ay-Ayatetsu! Otouto-san, how could you leave without your medicine this morning?" The boy ignored him, but several people looked over at him, blankly. Again, Aya took a deep breath and said, "Sorry, my brother is always forgetting his medicine. Without it, he always gets like this."   
Grateful for someone to take care of the situation, the speechless tension of the crowd relaxed, and one middle-aged man actually stepped forward to offer his help. "No, no," said Aya, "I have to do this for him a lot. It's alright."   
He stepped over towards the boy and tried to talk to him. "It's alright, you're fine--" The boy didn't seem to acknowledge his words at all, but reached forward and clutched Aya's arm with a vice-like grip, his eyes wide and staring. "No . . . no, no, no," he moaned, trying to push Aya away from him as if getting rid of him would get rid of the thing trying to take him over. "G-get away, iie, leave me alone--" He lashed out with his foot and free hand, catching Aya square on the shin, as well as scratching a line across his face.   
Aya tried to shake him, but nothing happened; the gold intermingled in the boy's eyes was getting stronger, as if he were being possessed by some sort of demon. Aya bit his lip. Maybe he could guide the boy to the hospital? No-- what if the demon fighting in him took hold? The possessed boy could easily kill dozens of helpless people there. Then where . . .   
A change in the grip on Aya's arm made him look back down at the boy's face. The gold was almost completely solid in his eyes. Slowly, the corners of his mouth drew up into a smirk, one that Aya recognized easily. "Schwartz!" he said out loud, his eyes widening slightly. " F . . . Farfarello?" The demon-boy's smile grew wider, it opened its mouth to speak . . . Aya could _feel_ its filthy presence on his mind . . .   
_GO!_   
Suddenly, as Aya mentally tried to shove the demon's presence away, the demon-_thing_ flew from his arms and hit the wall behind him. There was a sickening thunk and immediately the gold in the boy's eyes disappeared, just before they rolled back into his head and he slid to the ground. _How did I do that . . .?_ Aya swallowed, shoving his questions to the back of his mind. He unclenched his fists, noticing with surprise how slick his palms were with sweat. His heart was pounding painfully in his chest, and his breath was coming raggedly. He straightened up and wiped his hands on his jeans, and tried to look calm despite the mindless, baseless, raw fear coursing through his veins. For that brief second, he could _feel_ the demon's mind on his, and for that briefest of moments, Aya had felt his will draining away, and had almost let himself go . . .   
For once, it was hard for Aya to regain his composure. He reached down and picked up the boy, surprised at how light he felt, almost as if he wasn't completely there. He touched his cheek where he'd gotten scratched gingerly, and his hand came away slightly bloody. _Vicious little boy,_ Aya thought to himself absently as he tested his weight on his injured leg. He'd be limping a little for a few hours from that kick, and it'd leave a bruise on his pale, easily marked skin for weeks. He slung the unconscious boy over his shoulder and began back the way he came, towards the hospital. The crowd parted for him as he went, staring at him, but Aya began to concentrate on not being seen.   
_Don't look at me . . . I'm not here, this boy is just a shadow on the wall there. Go on with what you were doing. There's nothing here. Nothing interesting happened. Just forget it all. It was just a little misunderstanding. Don't look here . . . I'm nobody._   
He didn't look back, but behind him Aya could hear the voices and city noises start back up again and begin intermingling, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Ken's fingers holding the folder with the death certificates trembled slightly as he looked down at the four photographs attached to the papers. "Us?" he said, still looking completely blank. Then, as he stared at the slips of paper, he seemed to get it. "Oh. _Our_ death cert . . . ificates . . ."   
Youji hadn't even looked at the papers. "I . . . don't suppose we could pass this off as the psychologically produced images of an over-worked, under-payed, and sleep-deprived mind?" he said, without much hope.   
Reika just stared at them. Omi glanced towards the doors. "Okay," he said worriedly. "We can try to explain this later. Right now, we think that Aya-- Ran-- the guy we were talking about, right, we think he's in trouble." He took a deep breath. "We really, really need to know where he is."   
Reika had no sooner opened her mouth then the doors opened so forcefully that the glass rattled slightly. In the doorway stood a bedraggled, wide-eyed, _bleeding_ Aya, carrying something -- or some_one_ -- over his shoulder.   
For a moment, no one moved, not even the other people in the hospital lounge. Then, all at once, there was a flurry of movement. Reika slammed her hand down on a little button near the computer, which began to flash red. Almost immediately, a group of hospital staff hurried in, bringing a stretcher-bed with them. Aya seemed almost reluctant to relinquish the boy slung over his shoulder, but once they did set the unconscious boy on the stretcher and wheel him out and away from the lobby, the red-haired young man took a few limping, swaying steps forward.   
The other three members finally started moving, and each went about their tasks. Youji said firmly, "I'll take care of the people in the lobby. Go to Aya." Ken hurried over and started talking to Aya, surreptitiously looking him over for any wounds other than his leg and the minor scratch on his cheek, while Omi went to the water cooler on the far side of the lobby and got Aya a glass of water.   
Youji paused in the center of the room, glancing around as if gauging how many people he had to deal with. His calculating sweep of the room stopped, however, when his eyes fell upon Reika. Her hat had fallen off in the commotion, and the bobby pins holding her hair back had come loose, letting her short black hair fall around her face. Youji stared at her for a minute, as if he couldn't remember who she was, a look of shock on his face. Then, his face hardened slightly and he jerked his head in the direction the staff had taken the unconscious boy. "Go," he said quietly, for her ears alone.   
Reika blinked, frightened by the sudden change in the three boys' manners. Youji, who had been so easy-going and light-hearted, was now completely grave and even brusque. "Wh-what? But what about Ran-- Aya, what if he's--"   
"Just go!" said Youji sharply, his eyes narrowed. "In a few moments, not a single person in this room is going to remember what just happened." Exasperated, he added, "Look, if you _want_ to forget everything that's been happening, go ahead and stay. I won't _make _you leave, but it's the only way you'll remember all this. I'm doing you a damn favor by telling you to leave." He paused and then took a breath, as if to calm himself. "Now, get the hell out of here!"   
And so Reika got out, so fast that she left the doors swinging behind her. Youji swallowed, eyes closed, trying to erase the image that had superimposed itself on Reika's face for an instant. Finally, he focused his attention and felt, without knowing how he was doing it or even what he was doing, he went along the room without moving physically and felt for their minds. When he had found them all and had gotten the feel of them in his own mind, he told them, _"You don't want to remember us. We're not interesting, the four of us. We weren't ever here, right? Because it's easier on you if you just forget any of this ever even happened."_ And with that, every person in the room blinked and returned to their previous conversations without hesitation. A couple of them glanced blankly in Youji's direction, or in Aya's, but they didn't register what their eyes saw.   
A strange surge came over Youji, an energy that left him exhausted and made him giddy at the same time. With a strange sigh, he turned and rejoined the other three, who had made their way towards a corner of the room and found a seat for Aya. Now that the commotion was over, the red-head looked a lot better, if exhausted. And of course, his cheek was still slightly bloody.   
"But Aya," Omi was saying, "if your arms were both taken with carrying that boy, how did you open the doors like that?"   
Aya looked at him blankly. "Eh? Like what?"   
Omi blinked. "Aya, the doors opened so fast that the glass almost broke."   
Aya glanced back over his shoulder towards the doors, his brow slightly furrowed. "I . . . don't know. I don't remember, exactly. I needed the doors to open, so they opened. I guess I told them to."   
Youji snorted. "Ah, great. To sum up: Omi can move computer mouses, Ken can get headaches, and Aya can talk to doors. Just look at how talented we are . . ."   
They only just seemed to notice he had come back, and looked around the lobby at all the people, who weren't even looking in their direction, much less at them. Ken blinked. "We're not even concentrating, or anything . . . Youji, what did you _do_ to them? Has your talent manifested too?"   
Youji frowned. "Hm? I just told them to forget all this, and that we're not all that special, and that they shouldn't look over here. It's the same thing we do when we're being "invisible," I just focused it on them in particular as opposed to letting it spread thin, all around. It's a lot stronger when you compel them directly to forget instead of working to surround yourself with a general sort of casing of invisibility."   
"You . . . you sound like you've done this before."   
Youji shrugged, closing his eyes and leaning against the wall. "It worked a lot better than the old way, so I did it."   
Ken's eyes widened slightly. "You mean . . . you _never_ did it before?"   
Youji opened one eye a crack. "What's wrong with that? It's not as if had the opportunity to practice it a bit."   
"But-- Youji, you can't just play with people's minds like that, using this talent! What if . . . I don't know, what if you accidentally told them to stop breathing or something? Then we'd have a lobby of dead people on our hands. And I don't think you could get a bunch of police investigators to ignore us if they start searching the room."   
Youji paused for a minute, and then said thoughtfully, "Actually, I think I could."   
"That's not the _point!!"_   
"Calm down, Ken," said Aya, in his usual cool voice. "He did what he had to do, it worked without problems, and he knows to be careful next time. Just let it go."   
Youji glanced curiously at Aya. "I didn't catch exactly what happened back there. Care to enlighten me?"   
Aya told him, the other two listening gravely as well. As he finished, he said quietly, "I think the demon was trying to take him over. And that smirk-- it was Farfarello's smirk. You know how distinct it is. How insane-looking."   
Youji's eyes were narrow as he peered intensely at Aya. "You're _sure_?"   
Aya stared back coolly, inwardly repressing a shudder at the memory of the taste of Farfarello's mind probing his. "Positive," he replied coldly.   
Ken sighed, thoughtfully. "So why would Schwartz be trying to possess this boy?"   
Youji put in, "You remember how that video clip we saw showed that they were sort of shadows? That they didn't have real bodies? Maybe there's something they have to do that they need real bodies for, so they have to possess people."   
Aya raised an eyebrow. "But that still doesn't explain all the coma victims. Are they just being malicious?"   
Omi cut in, speaking slowly. "I think . . . put yourselves in their shoes. If _you_ had to possess someone, it would have to be someone with the same sort of mind as you. Or-- in Schwartz's case, maybe people who have the same _capability_ to have the same sort of mind." He paused, and when no one said anything, he continued, even more hesitantly. "So . . . maybe they have some sort of time limit, so they don't have time to be careful. Which means that they'd just take over a promising-looking boy, see if he's compatible, and if not, they just drop him like an empty sack."   
Youji grimaced. "Testing them like computer hardware, for compatibility. 'Whoops, this ain't Microsoft, sweetheart. Don't bother taking it back to the store, just toss it . . ."   
Ken was looking rather sick. "Did you have to put it like that?" he asked Youji.   
Just then, a few vans began pulling up to the front of the hospital, and out climbed a man in a suit, and a few more people with technical-looking equipment, including a microphone and a camera case. "Damn reporters!" said Youji irritably, even as more vans pulled up. "I _hate_ reporters."   
Omi sighed. "Looks like not even Youji's tampering kept news of this from getting out."   
Youji looked reproachfully at Aya, who returned to scowling at the three of them. "You just had to make such a dramatic entrance, didn't you?"   
Ken suddenly leveled a sharp glance at Youji. "Speaking of dramatics. What were you _thinking_ when you made up that long story about Aya being some sort of derelict thief to tell that nurse?"   
Aya paused in mid-scowl. "What's this?" he asked, dangerously.   
Ken ignored him, continuing his tirade. "We could have slipped in, asked her what we needed to know, and gone back out again, and she wouldn't have thought twice about us. You gave her enough time to realize who we were, and _now_ she's been involved long enough that trying to do your thing with the memory twiddling probably won't even _work_ with her."   
Before Youji could do more than open his mouth, Omi said urgently, "Look Ken, you can yell at Youji all you want later--"   
"Hey, I think I should have some say--" Youji began, but Omi talked right through him for once.   
"But right _now_, we've got another problem." He gestured towards the reporters, who were already talking with the replacement nurse at the desk, who was giving them puzzled looks.   
Ken let out a groan. "You're right . . . but wait, what about what's-her-name? Rika?"   
"Reika," Youji murmured, distracted by the reporters.   
"Reika, right," replied Ken. "What about her? We can't just leave her here. She might talk."   
"Mm," agreed Omi, "And she's probably really confused. There's no way we're leaving her here without some sort of explanation."   
Youji shook his head. "No, let's just go. She's fine."   
Omi frowned. "But we can't--"   
"Yes," Youji said a little sharper than he was meaning to. "Yes, Omi, we can. We can, and we will."   
Ken sighed. "Youji, I don't know what's wrong now, but just listen to reason for a second--"   
"Look, you know how we're all getting these mighty, magical, mystical powers all of a sudden?" Youji asked heatedly. "Well _my _thing is telling me we should _leave_ her! The sooner the better! I was the one that talked to her the most, and _I don't trust her!_"   
There was silence for a moment. Youji had finished his speech almost yelling; almost, but not quite loud enough to attract the attention of the reporters-- yet. "Y-Youji . . ." said Omi, bewildered.   
The slight squeak of a shoe against tile sounded into the quiet, as if someone had come to an abrupt stop. All four ex-assassins looked up, to see Reika standing only a few yards away, within easy hearing distance. She backed up a step, her face shocked for a moment before her expression hardened. "Sorry," she murmured coldly. "I didn't realize you were being confidential over here. S-s-sumi masen." Her voice trembled on the last note, like someone on the verge of a hysterical breakdown, avoiding it only by clinging desperately to reality. The problem was, Reika's normal, comfortably logical reality was slipping away faster than sand in an hourglass.   
Almost as one man, all of the group except Youji turned and shot him a murderous look. Youji didn't even notice their looks as he sat staring coldly back at Reika. With an almost amused air, Ken waved a hand in front of Youji's face. "Hey. Stop that and apologize to her."   
When Youji didn't respond, except with a low growling noise in his throat, Aya crossed the room to where Reika stood, and inclined his head. "Look, I don't know what's wrong with him, so someone's going to have to apologize for him since he's unable to do it for himself." The others, Youji included, turned to stare at Aya. Aya? Being social? To a woman? They didn't speak, in case he did it again. Aya continued, his face grave and completely serious. "As I said, I don't know what's wrong with him. He's usually very friendly, really. We've been considering taking him to the vet to get him fixed--"   
Youji made a strangled squeaking noise, and began to splutter angrily. Reika stared at Aya's grave countenance for a few moments, before she began to laugh, helplessly. Aya glanced back at the others, his cool expression never slipping even once. "So that's settled. Shall we go?"   
Ken blinked. "Y-yeah," he said, smiling a little. "Once Youji recovers his dignity enough, that is."   
Youji made a little hissing noise. If looks could kill, Ken would have been nothing more than a little greasy smudge on the floor of the lobby, with maybe a few little tendrils of smoke rising out of it. "I do _not_ need to recover my dignity." He glanced at Reika, who was still trying to repress bubbles of laughter. For a moment, his brow furrowed, and then he sighed. "Whatever, I guess I'm outnumbered. Let's go."   
Omi grinned. "Good! Now get your skinny little psychic butt in gear and make those reporters forget us."   
Youji glanced towards the reporters, some of whom were watching them curiously, though the cameras were still being unpacked. He stuck his tongue out at them, and almost immediately they turned back to the nurse at the desk, who was more confused than ever.   
Ken raised an eyebrow. "You're getting better. That's only your second time using your mind-reading 'talent'."   
Youji gave him a sly, almost evil look. "How do you _know_ that today was the first time I'd used it?" And while the rest of them sorted through that, he sauntered towards the doors in what could only be described as a Youji-style.   
After a moment, Omi murmured, "G-geh . . . that was kind of creepy."   
Ken nodded. "Tell me about it . . ." He grinned wryly. "But it looks like his ego bounced right back up after that blow, Aya."   
Aya shrugged, his only comment, and followed Youji out of the hospital, tracked closely by Reika, who was still grinning to herself.   
  
  
  
  
Sakura hummed quietly to herself as she worked, cleaning the windows of the flower shop; Aya-chan still hadn't trusted her to take care of the flower arrangements. As the last of the customers left for the evening, she locked up the door and changed the sign reading 'open'. With a weary sigh, she leaned against the counter.   
"Aya-chaaaan," she sighed, "Where's the remote?" Sakura felt the need to catch up with the day's news.   
Aya, who was setting the unused flowers for that day out in the back room to dry, glanced out the door. "Near the counter, I think," she replied. "Let me know if something interesting is on, okay?"   
"Mm," said Sakura as she searched around the counter for the controller for the television. "Ah, here." She found it under the edge of the counter, and pressed the on-button.   
_"Thursday it looks like rain,"_ the weather-man was saying,_ "But that will clear up by the weekend, so don't cancel any plans." _The screen flipped from the weather report to a young woman's face. _"This just in. At 1:00 today, downtown in the hospital, another unexplained event has occurred. Yet another of the teenaged victims has been turned up, but this one may have been saved from the long-term coma by the quick action of the young man who brought him into the hospital by way of the lobby. Other people present in the lobby when he was reported to come in claim to remember nothing of this young man coming in, but the hospital staff that came to collect the unconscious sixteen year-old from his rescuer remember precisely when and where he was. However, none of them can offer any concrete description of this heroic young man, not even his hair color, height, or build."_ The reporter looked up from her notes. _"It appears as though yet another report of this city's group of 'Guardian Angels' has been made."_   
Sakura's mind froze. _That_ had been where she'd heard the term 'guardian angel'! The news, the story about the serial murderers and thieves that had been caught and found with moderate wounds in front of the hospital. That was what she had been trying to remember when Aya-chan was talking about how she always liked to think that her brother was a sort of guardian angel to her. And combine that with the fact that she always thought she caught glimpses of all four of the dead Weiß members, only to find that her mind was playing tricks on her . . . and that she'd seen Aya's face, and his eyes . . .   
She swallowed nervously and turned off the television. She went behind the counter and pulled a small key ring from one of the drawers. Feeling a little foolish, and not knowing completely why she was doing it, she crossed over towards the door leading down into the old Weiß hideout, and locked it with a little key on the ring. Maybe, just maybe, they'd have to come get the key from _her_ to get in . . .   
She laughed then, feeling completely idiotic. And yet, she didn't unlock the door. As she turned to replace the keys, she caught Aya-chan's questioning gaze. She didn't say anything, but just looked at Sakura curiously for a few seconds before turning back to the dried flowers. Sakura took a slow, steady breath. At least now she'd find out for sure if someone was going down into that basement.   
  
  
  
  
Fallen Angels, by Tori: email me at saezuru@hotmail.com 


	6. 

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Weiß or it's characters (ohhh, though I wish I did...) so don't sue me. You wouldn't get anything... I have no money! This story takes place after the end of the TV series, but since I haven't gotten to see the OVAs (;_;) it doesn't have anything from there in it.**  
**C&C is very welcome! I always want feedback, even if it's just dropping a line and saying, 'Hey, I read your fic.' Email me at [saezuru@hotmail.com][1] if you want to say anything. Thanks for reading!**  
  
  
  
  


f a l l e n   a n g e l s  
A _Weiß Kreuz_ Fanfiction  
Part Six   
  
  


  
Reika looked around nervously. "Look," she said, "Isn't this illegal? It _is _your flower-shop, but . . . well, I mean, you're dead and all, so is it really yours?"   
Youji didn't look in her direction, focused as he was on trying to pick the lock on the door of the shop. "What do _you_ know?" He snorted and glared at the lock, as yet another attempt with Reika's hairpin resulted in failure.   
"I know that it's called breaking and entering by the law," she replied tightly.   
Youji paused in his work, his eyes moving upwards to look at her. "We just got locked out, okay? How were we supposed to know that they were going to close early today?"   
"You can't just knock?" Reika asked, rubbing at the goose-bumps on her arms.   
Youji just snorted by way of response, and went back to trying to pick the lock.   
"You're ghosts. Aren't you supposed to be able to walk through walls and stuff?"   
"Angels, thank-you-very-much!"   
"Then why don't you call down the power of God or whatever and have him blast the door away?"   
"Because . . ." Youji abandoned the door as he floundered for a response.   
Omi let out a laugh. "I think she's got you there!"   
Youji tossed the hairpin down to the ground, with an exasperated noise. "I told you we should have just left her at the hospital!"   
Reika turned her nose away. "It's not like I wanted to come."   
Ken shifted slightly. "Youji, it's very cold out here. Even though none of us are affected by it, Reika's probably freezing."   
Youji peered closer at Reika, who was still dressed in her short-sleeved, short-skirted nurse's uniform, and trying not to shiver overtly. "Well, the lock just won't get picked," he said firmly. "I'm cursing the fact now that we personally picked out this lock so that people wouldn't be able to get into our base of operations. This door isn't gonna open anytime soon. We should just find a hotel or something to stash the girl."   
Ken glared at Youji. "What sort of way is that to speak about a woman?" he asked, as he removed his jacket. He handed it to Reika, who took it but not without muttering, "I'm not cold," under her breath.   
Aya stepped forward, crouching silently by the door and startling Youji into flopping backwards on the pavement. He reached up and touched the doorknob lightly, his lips curved ever so slightly in a frown of concentration.   
Youji rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on. Don't try to tell me that you think _you_ can pick the lock. I used to be a detective, you know. If I can't pick it, there's no way you wi--" There was a faint click, and Aya straightened up. He turned the doorknob and went in, moving silently as a cat. Youji blinked and watched him go, before standing up himself.   
"Wh-What did you do? You didn't even touch the hairpin."   
Aya glanced at him over his shoulder. "I don't need a hairpin."   
Omi walked past Youji, following Aya into the shop. "He's got that talent now, remember? He can move stuff with his mind. Like when he pushed the demon away, and like when he opened the hospital doors without using his hands."   
Youji frowned. "Well that's hardly fair. He could pick any of us up and do whatever he wanted, then, couldn't he?"   
Omi hid a grin. "Well, he only just figured it out. I doubt he can do anything that big unless he's really worked up. Like with the demon."   
"And anyway," added Ken, "Yours is just as unfair. You can control anyone's mind you want, right? I mean, all I can do is see the future. It's definitely not fair."   
There was a pause, as Youji mulled this over. Then, as a slow grin went across his face, Omi shot Ken a grief-stricken look. "You had to tell him that, didn't you?" he hissed, his eyes anguished.   
Ken grinned sheepishly. Aya suddenly turned around, standing at the door to the basement, and said sharply, "This door's locked, too."   
Youji frowned. "So? You just do your little Aya thing and 'tell' it to open."   
Aya shook his head. "But why is it locked? Why now, when it's been unlocked all this time?" Youji bit his lip, his brows furrowed in thought.   
Omi stepped over to the door, jiggling the locked doorknob thoughtfully. "Hmm . . ." Then his eyes widened. "You don't think one of them saw us, do you? And so they're trying to keep us out of there so they can see us for sure?"   
Aya shook his head. "They would have tried to talk to us if they had seen us, right? I know my sister."   
"But what about Sakura-chan?"   
Aya started to answer, and then hesitated.   
Ken made a face. "I know you think she's so much like your sister, but you have to admit that she is a separate person. She's more independent, for one thing."   
"I don't know. It seems odd, but maybe." Aya shrugged. "I suppose we might as well go in." He concentrated on the lock for a moment, and the doorknob turned by itself and the door swung open.   
They went down the stairs, Reika trailing along behind them hesitantly. Ken looked at her, sympathy on his face. "You've got to be tired-- and confused. You deserve an explanation for this all. We just haven't had time until now."   
Omi spoke up, a worried overtone in his voice. "Yes, but don't you think she should be allowed to sleep first? She's got to be exhausted by all this."   
Ken nodded. "We don't have an extra room, but if you want to sleep on the couch, you can."   
Reika blinked. "Well . . . alright, I guess." She sat down, as Youji rolled his eyes and sauntered down the hallway, shutting the door to his room behind him slightly louder than was necessary.   
Aya sighed. "Just ignore him. He's temperamental sometimes. Do you need anything else?"   
Reika shook her head numbly and Aya nodded once in acknowledgment, before retreating to his own room. Ken waved, Omi smiled at her, and they too disappeared down the hall. Reika sighed and lay back on the couch, staring wide-eyed and sleepless at the ceiling. Out loud, she murmured, "Oh, good lord . . . what have I gotten myself into?"   
  
  
  
  
  
  
_Youji crouched down by the corner of the alley wall, his gun held ready near his face so he could aim and fire it easily if he had to. He glanced at his companion, and grinned charmingly. "Here," he said lightly. "You go around this way, and I'll hold them off back here while you get away. Then I'll follow you."_   
_His partner grimaced. "Are you sure you'll be all right?"_   
_Youji's grin widened. "Of course! Now hurry, run! Before they get here!" He took a quick, last look at her face, not knowing then that it would indeed be his last look. Then she darted around the corner, sprinting for safety. Youji let out a sigh of relief-- he hadn't been sure if he'd be able to persuade her to go. As he glanced behind him to make sure he wasn't being followed yet, a strange sound reached his ears. It was like someone dropping marbles on a trash can lid, but much louder. Gun shots. As the echoes ricocheted around the brick walls of the alley, Youji's eyes widened._   
_"ASUKA!" he shouted, blood draining from his face. "Asuka, come back! It's a trap!" The leaden weight of the gun pulled his hand down limply by his side as he watched, unable to do anything else. The look of shock on the girl's face as she fell mirrored his own . . . _   
"ASUKA!"__   
_Except that the girl wasn't Asuka anymore. She was someone else, very like Asuka, but still different. She fell to the pavement just as the gun fell from Youji's limp hand and clattered against the ground . . ._   
"Asuka!" cried Youji, as he sat up in bed. For a minute, he stared at the wall opposite his bed, eyes wide, lungs gasping for the air he couldn't seem to breathe. "A dream," he murmured desperately. "The same nightmare, the exact same nightmare. The usual nightmare."   
He stayed there for a few moments, trying to calm his shaking limbs and twisting thoughts. He closed his eyes and swallowed, the movement causing a droplet of moisture to roll down his cheek and off his chin, splashing down against his hand. He wiped at his face with his hands, surprised at how slick with sweat he was. Youji swung his legs out of bed and wrapped the sheet around his waist as he trudged over to the mirror. Surprising, but there weren't any circles beneath his eyes-- probably because, since he wasn't exactly a normal human being, sleep-deprivation didn't affect him.   
"The same dream . . ." he murmured, his eyes troubled as they gazed back at him out of the mirror. Except that it wasn't the same dream. It was very like the recurring nightmare he used to have about losing his partner, Asuka, except that the girl hadn't been Asuka. She'd looked like her, spoken like her, moved like her-- but hadn't been her. _Maki?_ For a moment, he entertained the idea that the dream had simply been a memory of the young prostitute that had been murdered early on in his Weiß career. And yet, something was different . . . what was it? Youji closed his eyes again, trying to recall the girl's face. But the memory was slipping away, even as he tried to grasp it . . . And then it was gone, sinking back into his subconscious as if he'd never had the dream in the first place.   
Youji sighed, shaking his head. He ran a hand through his damp hair, noting with some distaste how limp it felt. "Shower," he murmured. "I need a shower." He firmly put the thought out of his mind that an angel shouldn't require a shower.   
He let the sheet drop to the floor and poked his head out of the door of his room. It was late, or early, perhaps-- about 2:00 in the morning. The other three members of Weiß should still be asleep, so they probably wouldn't even notice if he dashed down the hallway to the bathroom with no clothes on. The thought of pulling clothes on over his sweaty, stuffy-feeling body made his skin crawl. So, he slipped out the door and did just that, sliding down the hall and shutting the door after him. He flicked on the light switch, wincing as the light struck his eyes, and glanced around.   
Towels . . . soap . . . no shampoo. Youji sighed and grabbed up a towel to wrap around his waist and turned off the light as he left the bathroom to search for a new bottle of shampoo. He trudged down the hallway, yawning, and entered the main room, trying to think where shampoo would be stored. He'd never been the one to go grocery shopping or run errands, or put things away; usually Omi had done that, or sometimes Ken would if Omi was busy or he really needed something. Youji, on the other hand, firmly refused to do anything of the sort. The others said it was because he was lazy, and Youji didn't mind that verdict, possibly because it was true and he knew it. Youji grinned to himself in the darkness-- being notoriously lazy definitely had its advantages when things like spring cleaning came around. Then his grin faded a little as his mind turned back to his search for shampoo. Right now, Youji wished that he had perhaps paid a little more attention to where things were stored. Omi probably wouldn't appreciate being woken up at 2:00 in the morning because Youji had had a sudden need for utter cleanliness.   
As Youji looked around the dark common room, the hairs on the back of his neck suddenly lifted. Without changing his posture, Youji immediately forgot his shampoo as he tried to figure out what had tripped his finely tuned senses. Someone was watching him, from the shadows of the pitch-black room-- he could feel their eyes boring into his skull. Schwartz? Youji didn't want to contemplate a confrontation right now. They, after all, appeared to know what they were doing and why they were here, while Weiß was still groping around in the darkness for answers. Even in his wary, cautious state, Youji had to grin at the irony of that last thought. After all, he _was_ groping around in the darkness-- literally.   
Youji concentrated outwards, letting that odd second-sight that was related to his so-called "gift" ooze around the room. He had a little trouble locating the source of the tension he felt, but when he did, it shocked him. There was definitely someone in the room with him, and they had hostile intentions. All he could pick up was a desperate violence, and it was coming closer-- right behind him. Youji turned suddenly, seeing a shape loom up in front of him in the darkness with something like a club held up over his head.   
"Take . . . THAT!" The thing shrieked.   
Youji saw stars that faded into blackness and slumped to the ground, unconscious.   
  
  
  
  
Aya turned on the lights of his room, his heart pounding. He'd heard a loud yell, and a thud-- what was going on out in the main room? Schwartz?   
He opened the door, and found Ken and Omi in the hallway, having been woken up as well. Ken was in the process of scrambling into his jacket, with the ties of his bugnuks caught in his teeth, while Omi was hurriedly unpacking his little darts. They both looked up as Aya exited, and noted his lack of weapon. Aya shrugged. "I can defend myself if there's need," he said simply, and then proceeded down the hallway. He paused before he reached the common room, and asked, "Where's Kudou?"   
Omi and Ken exchanged glanced. "Dunno," said Ken. "That's what we're worried about."   
They continued the rest of the way down the hall and turned on the light. They paused there for a moment, surveying the scene. Youji was in a sprawled heap on the floor, his towel only barely covering the essentials, a rather conspicuous lump forming on his upper forehead. And, standing above him, holding the base of a lamp raised slightly in her hand, was . . .   
Ken suddenly burst out laughing. "Reika?" he asked incredulously. "What are you doing?"   
Reika jumped and glanced at Ken with wide eyes, lowering the lamp slightly. She wobbled a little, staring at the three assassins, letting the lamp slide from her nerveless fingers. It landed on Youji, hitting him squarely in the stomach, causing him to twitch, and moan slightly, shifting pathetically on the floor. Reika blinked down at him for a moment, as if surprised that he was there. "What . . . huh?" she murmured, confused.   
Omi's eyes widened. "He _didn't!_"   
Aya raised an eyebrow at the youngest member. "Didn't what?"   
Omi flushed a little. "Well, you know Youji . . . he might have, well, been rather improper to her . . ."   
Reika suddenly turned bright red. "That's not it! He-- well, it was dark, and I thought he was . . . Well, the whole night, there's been these shapes across the windows, people looking in, and I thought he was one of them and had somehow gotten inside. He was just creeping around in the darkness, I didn't know he wasn't . . ." She actually looked worried as she watched him. "I . . . didn't hurt him _that_ badly, did I?" For someone who'd had years of medical training, she appeared to be rather dazed at the moment.   
Aya crossed the room and knelt down by the fallen man. "He probably forgot you were here and sleeping on the couch." His lips twitched, for a moment making it look as if he was trying not to laugh. "It's probably the first time he's been decked by a woman, however. This may be a rather mighty blow to him, and I don't just mean that lump on his head."   
Ken was grinning broadly as he joined Aya. "Here, help me get him onto the couch." He and Aya lifted his prone body onto the piece of furniture. Omi disappeared for a moment into the kitchen, returning with some water, which he used with a washcloth to try and revive the unconscious assassin.   
Meanwhile, Reika had regained some of her equilibrium. "What exactly was he _doing_, sneaking about in the middle of the night, anyway?" she asked, suspiciously.   
Omi shrugged. "Who knows?" He dribbled some water over Youji's face, causing him to mumble something and open his eyes blearily.   
"Ah . . . S'ka?" he asked incoherently, and sat up abruptly, knocking his head into the bowl of water Omi was holding. The younger boy managed to keep it from spilling as Youji's eyes glazed a little and he held a hand to his head. "Oh, bloody hell," he muttered. "How much did I have to drink, anyway?"   
Ken was unsuccessfully trying to hold back his mirth. "None. You just startled our heroine here, and she smacked you a good one for disturbing her sleep."   
Youji followed Ken's gesture, his eyes falling on Reika. They widened for a moment, and then assumed Youji's usual slit-eyed, almost feline look of laziness. Puzzled, he watched her for a moment before turning back and asking plaintively, "What?"   
Reika swallowed and replied rather heatedly, "You were creeping around in the dark, so how was I to know you weren't some burglar, or one of those faces at the window? I had to do something." Her eyes flicked briefly towards her make-shift club, still lying on the floor.   
Youji blinked dazedly a few more times, and then chuckled weakly. "Well, that's a first, I suppose. Being knocked out completely by a woman. Most men don't even manage to do that to me very often."   
Aya was watching Reika with a slightly calculating look on his face. "What's this about faces at the windows?"   
Reika started to look a little subdued, almost as if she was beginning to doubt herself. But when she spoke, her voice betrayed nothing of such a sentiment. "I couldn't really get to sleep," she admitted. "This is all kind of frightening, to be honest. I don't know what's going on, and yet you can't let me just continue with my life, apparently, because you're afraid I'll go blab to someone about it and blow your cover; or what little of it's left." She smiled ruefully at the surprised looks on their faces. "Oh, don't worry, I'm not offended. I'd probably do the same thing. But don't, for a minute, think I'm dumb enough not to know why you brought me along."   
"The faces," Aya reminded her quietly.   
"Oh, right," she said. "I couldn't sleep. I don't know how long it was, but after a while I saw a shadow pass in front of the window." She nodded her head towards the window near the basement ceiling, now dark because of the light inside the room. In the darkness, however, a street lamp outside shone into the room. "I thought it was just people walking outside, but then I saw someone stop in front of it and look in."   
Omi asked, almost whispering, as if afraid to speak loudly lest he interrupt her story too much, "What did he look like?"   
Reika shrugged. "I don't know. He was lit up from behind, so I couldn't see his face. But other people came and looked in as well. Once I saw the light reflected in the eyes of one of them, and his eyes were this odd golden sort of color. So when I heard someone moving around quietly, I naturally thought . . ." She glanced down at Youji, almost apologetically.   
Youji spoke up then, his words startling the other three assassins. "You were right to be alarmed." Then, after pausing for a moment, he added almost sulkily, "'m sorry."   
Reika raised an eyebrow. "What happened to not trusting me? To my being the very bane of your existence?"   
Youji shrugged, grinning that charming grin. "Oh, I still don't trust you. But who trusts women, anyway?"   
Reika rolled her eyes in annoyance, and asked testily, "Well, why _were_ you sneaking around like that?"   
Youji looked sort of embarrassed. "I wanted to take a shower, but there wasn't any shampoo. I was trying to find some."   
Omi let out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a choked cough. "There's extra shampoo and soap in the cabinet under the sink in the bathroom, Youji."   
Youji sniffed. "Oh." He paused, aware of the idiocy of the situation. "I didn't know that."   
Aya leaned against the wall. "Golden eyes . . . sounds familiar, doesn't it, gentlemen?"   
Youji blinked, looking confused at the rapid change of subject, but then sighed ruefully. "Mm-hmm," he murmured, glancing up at the window. "Schwartz."   
Ken groaned and flopped into a chair ungracefully. "What I don't understand is _what_ they're trying to do! They're dead, after all-- for what reason would they come back and mess with these kids?"   
Omi glanced at him. "You're forgetting that we don't know the reason _we're_ here, either."   
Aya made a thoughtful humming noise in the back of his throat. "Perhaps our reason is tied into theirs. In fact, it's fairly well sure. You don't see demons and angels just roaming the streets every day, after all."   
Omi looked puzzled. "Like maybe our purpose is to prevent them from completing _theirs_?"   
Aya allowed a corner of his mouth to quirk. "Exactly. The problem is, they know what they're doing, and we have no clue what-so-ever."   
Youji, who had been silent throughout this, suddenly began to chuckle. The others looked at him, annoyed.   
"What is it now?" asked Omi.   
Youji grinned. "Look at Reika. She looks like she's about to keel over or something."   
The others all glanced at her, and indeed, she looked completely lost and confused. Ken winced, and said apologetically, "I suppose we owe you a full explanation, don't we?"   
Reika smiled weakly. "It . . . might help."   
Aya sat down in a chair. "I suppose I'll start. When we were alive, we were all part of an assassin group called Weiß."   
Youji grinned, amused at the look of surprise on Reika's face. "Don't underestimate us, hon. We may all look like useless pretty-boys, but we're trained killers. It's not a pretty job, nor is it fun, but no one ever said we had to like it."   
Ken broke in, offering a fuller explanation. "Our . . . well, I suppose our opposites were part of another group, called Schwartz. Our missions were generally to seek out and dispose of those monsters and criminals hidden in society, so deep that the police couldn't even seek them out. Schwartz's, however, were generally to support them, and to follow their own causes no matter how much it harmed others."   
Reika hesitated. "So, why are you . . ."   
Aya answered, quietly, "We died in a building that sank into the ocean, to keep them from reviving an ancient demon in the body of . . . in the body of a little girl."   
Reika was staring, rapt in the story. "Did they die too?"   
Aya shrugged in a noncommital fashion. "I assume so. They're certainly not mortal beings now. They've been trying to possess teenage boys--"   
"The coma cases!" Reika exclaimed, as certain things fit together in her mind.   
Ken nodded. "Exactly. Anyway, one minute we were all falling in that cave-in, and the next, we were here once more, the same as if none of it had ever happened. Except for two things: our eyes had all changed to this identical violet color, and each of us knew he had a certain set of instructions. We haven't shared them; we get the feeling that they are for us and us alone." He paused. "And that's as far as we've gotten."   
Omi spoke up then, adding, "We're fairly sure that Schwartz is back as demons, and that they've got some sort of purpose, some task to fulfill. We don't know what it is, but we know we have to stop them. When they aren't in possession of a body, they manifest as some sort of dark shadow."   
Ken nodded earnestly. "It's weird. And now, since you were just a tad too smart, you've found us out."   
Reika let out a long, steady breath. "And you didn't want me to stay there and alert whatever authorities there were that four ghosts, or angels, or whatever supernatural beings, were wandering around the city." She nodded. "It makes sense. I just . . ."   
Ken raised an eyebrow. "Just what?"   
Reika smiled wanly. "I just sort of wish it hadn't happened to _me._"   
Youji made a face. "I'm sure we all wish the same thing."   
Reika paused, as if remembering something. "But what about how Aya-san blew those doors apart? And picked the locks? And how you all made everyone in the hospital forget about you?"   
Aya concentrated a moment, and the lamp base rose unsteadily off of the floor. After letting it hover there for a moment, he brought it up and set it on the table from which Reika had snatched it in her haste. Then, as an afterthought, he brought the lampshade up as well and set it neatly on top of the base. He smiled slightly, at the look of wonder on Reika's face. "We were all promised, by whoever-- or whatever-- gave us our 'instructions,' that we were to get some sort of talent or power. We didn't know what they were, and it took a while for us all to realize them. We each have a certain limited invisibility. People can still see us, we just make it so that they ignore us as if they never saw us. Omi's specific ability is electronics-- he can infiltrate wires, computers, phone cables, anything like that."   
In response, the lights flickered briefly. Omi grinned. "Doesn't seem terribly useful to you, I'm sure, but in our assassin days we would have killed for someone able to get into the security systems, into enemy operations computers, etc. . . ."   
Aya nodded. "Exactly. And Ken, his is some sort of ability to see the future. Right?"   
Ken shrugged. "I can't really explain it. It's like a very strong premonition. I knew Aya was in trouble when he met that demon yesterday, and it manifested as a sort of headache. But if I concentrated on it, it got stronger and I could almost tell what was going on."   
Omi piped up, "And the lock-picking, that was because Aya can move things with his mind. Like the doors."   
Ken scowled at Youji. "And Youji can read minds, and other things like that."   
Youji grinned broadly. "I can tell what you're thinking, m'dear. I'm not good enough to tell deeper thoughts, only what's on the surface of the mind. Let me demonstrate." He paused, his eyes unfocusing for a minute. Then, in surprise, he looked down. "Oh, she's noticed; I _am_ still wearing nothing but a towel." He had the grace to look embarrassed.   
Reika turned bright red, and glared at him. "Stop that!" she exclaimed in outrage. "And go put some clothes on, for goodness' sake."   
He stood up and performed a mocking little bow. "As the lady commands," he responded promptly, and padded down the hallway into his room.   
Ken rolled his eyes. "He's really a nice guy," he said, "but sometimes his personality can be a little overwhelming."   
Reika glanced down the hallway. "It's almost like everything's one big joke to him, or something."   
Aya spoke up, his face impassive. "When you kill for a living, you have to learn to take things lightly or else you'd go mad."   
Reika shivered slightly. "I suppose so. But still . . ."   
Omi laughed. "Don't let it get to you."   
"What are you all going to do with me now?" she asked.   
Aya sighed. "I don't know. We can't ask you to stay, it's too dangerous." Youji returned then, in a pair of baggy jeans. He nodded gravely as he pulled one of his too-short, skin-tight t-shirts on, and Aya added, "But we can't let you go back to the hospital, because Schwartz will investigate and if they find you, they _will_ know everything about us."   
Reika sighed, and asked plaintively, "You can't just wiggle your fingers and make me forget all of this?"   
The others glanced at Youji, who shook his head. "No, and I'm sorry for that. You've been interacting with us too long. Your memories of us are too complicated now, and to erase them would be to erase a significant part of your personality along with them."   
Reika looked at him blankly. "I didn't understand that, but I'll accept it." She closed her eyes for a moment, and inhaled deeply. When she opened them again, she looked firm, resigned. "Well then, boys, sign me up. You just earned yourselves a tagalong. I know a mere mortal like me doesn't seem like much help, but you'll probably need someone to do undercover stuff for you."   
Aya's eyes widened slightly. "Are you sure? You don't know the sort of enemy we're dealing with--"   
Reika smiled wanly. "Well, since I can't be left by myself, and you can't just wiggle your fingers at me and make me forget all this, I don't really have much of a choice, do I?" Her weak smile widened into a true one. "What, did you think I was being brave, or something? I'm scared out of my wits, to tell you the truth."   
Ken grinned back at her. "Join the club. So-- we can assume that Schwartz knows we're trying to stop them. Them looking in the windows, one of them having an encounter with Aya, that note in the graveyard--"   
"Graveyard?" asked Reika, curiously. "I never heard that part. What note, what graveyard?"   
"Do you remember the little girl I visited in the hospital when I first met you?" Aya asked. When Reika nodded, he continued. "Well, the reason she was in that accident was because her brother got taken over just as they were crossing the street. When I was talking to her, she said that her brother whispered that 'they were meeting in the graveyard' just before the girl got hit by the oncoming traffic."   
"And?" Reika asked. "This note?"   
Aya nodded. "We went to the city's graveyard to check, but only found a note from Schwartz telling us to give up."   
Ken nodded. "So we can assume they know we're trying to stop them. The question is, what can they _do_ to us, exactly? We're already dead, so it's not like they can kill us or anything."   
"But we can't kill them either," Aya pointed out. "We're still worse off than them. We need something to put us back on the same level."   
Omi made a frustrated noise in his throat. "Something's just not quite right about this. I'm-- I'm going to do some research." He stood up and crossed to the computer, where he waved his hand imperiously. The screen came alight and immediately began scrolling text at him, faster than the others could read.   
"Whoa, slow down, Omi!" cried Ken, his eyes flickering back and forth across the page desperately. "What're you doing?"   
"Researching," Omi muttered. "Leave me alone." A strange, focused expression had come over his face, and the look it gave him made Ken back off.   
"Well . . . as long as you promise to tell us what you find out."   
Omi didn't respond, and instead switched to another window on the computer, his eyes scanning it quickly.   
Youji rolled his eyes upwards, with a melodramatic sigh. "Must have to do with that talent of his-- Here's hoping he can make some sense of all this."   
"In the meantime," Aya murmured, "I think Reika needs some sleep. She's nodding off where she sits."   
"But Omi's using the computer, so it'd be light in here. How's she going to sleep?"   
"Oh, it's alright," Reika said, desperately stifling a yawn. "I've worked night shifts at the hospital before--"   
"She can use my bed," Youji cut in. "I'm not going back to sleep anytime soon, and it's not as if I really need it anyway."   
Reika gave him a suspicious look, as if suspecting some sort of joke or trick. Ken looked at him in surprise, asking, "What, have you decided to start treating her as a human being all of a sudden?"   
Youji stuck his tongue out at the younger boy. "Oh, stop it. It's just logic. She needs a bed, I'm not going to sleep, it's all good." He made a shooing motion. "Go on ahead, missy. Just be careful where you step, I've got clothes and CD cases lying all over the floor."   
Reika smiled slightly, but wasted no time in heading for the room. She shut the door behind her, and there was silence for a while before Youji spoke up again. "And you two, go to sleep. There's nothing for you all to do while Omi's looking, and you won't be all nervous as you wait for his information."   
Ken frowned, puzzled. "What're you gonna do?"   
Youji shrugged. "I'm gonna go find a nice place outside somewhere to sit and make sure them Schwartzies don't come back to haunt us."   
Aya raised an eyebrow. "And why are you trying to get rid of us?"   
Youji looked chagrined. "I guess I wasn't too subtle in shooing you all off, was I?" Aya didn't respond, so Youji added, "I just want to be alone for a bit."   
Ken rolled his eyes and headed down the hall towards his room. "Well, I for one want to go to sleep so I don't have to think about this anymore." Aya shrugged and followed him, without a word.   
Youji sighed after they left and, shooting a glance towards Omi to make sure he was engrossed, before he sagged down onto the couch and stared sleeplessly up at the ceiling, watching the flickering changes in the light as the computer screen flashed.   
_Asuka . . ._   
  
  
  
  
  
  
Sakura was awakened in the morning by a faint sound coming from the room next to her. Groggily, she stared up at the ceiling as she tried to make sense of the noise. Unable to figure out what was causing it, she swung her legs over the side of her bed and got to her feet, pausing to wait through the rush of blood caused by the sudden movement.   
She padded across the floor, rubbing at her eyes as the sunlight filtering through the blinds hit them. Sakura opened the door to her bedroom, and went down the hallway to Aya-chan's room, and tapped on the door. There was no response, but the noise was louder-- loud enough now to be recognizable.   
Eyes widening slightly with worry, Sakura opened the door. "Aya-chan?" she called, "Are you okay? Why are you coughing?"   
Again, no response. Sakura shut the door behind her and went towards the bed. The other girl was half-upright, her head leaning against the headboard of her bed. There were dark circles under her eyes, easily visible through her pale skin.   
"Aya-chan!" said Sakura, distressed.   
Aya turned her head to look at Sakura, controlling the spasms of coughing long enough to whisper hoarsely, "O-Ohayou gozaima-su--"   
"What's the matter?" Sakura hurried to the bedside and sat down.   
Aya smiled weakly. "A cold," she whispered, her voice sounding thin and strained. "Nothing more."   
Sakura's brow furrowed and she placed a hand on Aya's forehead. "You're burning," she murmured, worriedly. "You're going to sleep today, since you obviously didn't get any rest last night."   
Aya-chan tried to sit up, but Sakura pushed her back down. "But what about the shop?" whispered Aya, distressed.   
Sakura grinned, trying to look as soothing and reassuring as she could. "I'll be fine, I promise," she replied firmly, more-so than she felt. "Trust me. After all, you'd be more of a hindrance down there today than a help." She paused to let that irony soak in-- after all, a day before, it had been Aya-chan saying that about her momentary clumsiness.   
Aya rolled her eyes and sank back down into her pillow. "Just don't break anything," she murmured, her hoarse voice cracking slightly on the last syllable.   
Sakura nodded seriously. "I won't. It's alright." She stood up. "I'll go get a thermometer just to be sure you're running a fever, okay?" Aya nodded, and Sakura left for a few moments. When she returned, Aya was coughing again-- a moist, lung-wrenching cough that made Sakura wince in sympathy. She crossed quietly to the bed and put an arm around Aya's shaking shoulders until the fit passed.   
"Here, hold this under your tongue," Sakura said, holding out the thermometer. "How are you feeling, besides that cough?"   
Aya merely shook her head as she stuck the thermometer in her mouth, settling back with a little sigh. As they waited in silence for the timer in the automatic thermometer to go off, Aya shivered a little, as if chilled. Sakura drew the blankets up around the girl just before the timer beeped loudly, startling the both of them.   
Sakura read the display on the thermometer to herself, her eyes widening in alarm. _A hundred and one . . . Aya-chan, what's going on?_   
Aya must have seen something in Sakura's expressed, for she smiled wanly. "Daijoubu, Sakura-chan . . ." she whispered. "I just need some rest."   
Sakura nodded and stood up, setting down a glass of water that she'd filled when she'd gotten the thermometer. "Try to drink all of that, alright?"   
Aya nodded, clutching the blankets around her chin like a small child.   
Sakura took one last worried glance behind her, to see Aya's large, dark eyes staring back out of her pale face. The sudden gauntness of the other girl surprised Sakura-- had she just not noticed when she'd gotten so thin? Or when her face had grown that pale? A small, nasty voice in her mind asked insidiously: _Or were you just too caught up in your own problems with Ran's supposed appearances to care?_   
Sakura pushed feelings of guilt away as she quickly shut the door behind her, and hurried to get dressed so she could open the flower shop for the morning's customers.   
  
  
  
  
  
_Author's Note:_   
First of all, big thank-you's go to those of you who have responded with emails to me about this story! I've never had such a good reaction to my writing before, and it's very helpful. Especially those of you who said you were confused about Chapter Four-- it was that confusion that made me re-read it, and I found out that something had gone wrong with the HTML and only half of the chapter had been uploaded. No wonder you were confused. ^^;; But anyway, thanks for all your comments and compliments, etc. ^_^   
Next, I apologize for the slowness with which this chapter was written. First there was crew season, then finals for school, and now summer rowing season has just started, so I've got practice every day, with Sunday as my only day for work and recuperation. So my writing time has been . . . well . . . rather limited, but I still hope to get a lot done now that school's over. Hope being the important word here . . .   
But anyway, thanks for reading, and I will be good and stop talking now before your eyes all glaze over. ^_~ Ciao!  
  
  
Fallen Angels, by Tori: email me at [saezuru@hotmail.com][1]

   [1]: mailto:saezuru@hotmail.com



	7. 

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Weiß or it's characters (ohhh, though I wish I did...) so don't sue me. You wouldn't get anything... I have no money! This story takes place after the end of the TV series, but since I haven't gotten to see the OVAs (;_;) it doesn't have anything from there in it.**  
**C&C is very welcome! I always want feedback, even if it's just dropping a line and saying, 'Hey, I read your fic.' Email me at [saezuru@hotmail.com][1] if you want to say anything. Thanks for reading!**  
  
  
  
  


**f a l l e n   a n g e l s**  
A _Weiß Kreuz_ Fanfiction  
Part Seven   
  
  


  
Aya-chan lay in her bed, staring up at the ceiling with a blank expression on her delicate face. She had been propped up in a sitting position, but had slid down so that only her shoulders and neck were supported by the pillow.   
_Everything hurts . . ._ she thought weakly, as a chill ran through her fevered body. _My head hurts so much from coughing, and my chest is on fire with every breath I take. My fingers and hands and feet feel swollen from lying down for so long. If it weren't for Sakura, I think I'd give up and just stop breathing to end this pain. _She turned her head minutely so she could look towards where Sakura sat in a chair, dozing quietly as she watched over Aya-chan as she had been for the past two and a half days, ever since she'd returned from working in the flower shop on the first day of her illness to find Aya retching in the bathroom because of her interminable coughing fits. __   
_I don't think I've ever been so sick before in my life, _Aya thought distantly._ And certainly never without Ran to help me. _She felt her eyes prick slightly, and she blinked her eyes to keep from crying. _Ran-oniichan . . . why did you leave me here like this?_   
She stifled a sob, which triggered another coughing fit. Sakura stirred and opened her eyes, reddened from lack of sleep. Aya say anything to her, and could only pray for quiet as her frail body shook from coughing. Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, the coughs subsided and she could breath again. Each breath was becoming more painful than the last, as if the air was on fire and every breath she took was torturing her abused lungs.   
"Sa-Sakura," she croaked, mustering the strength to stretch a hand out to the girl, "Please . . ."   
It wasn't a request for anything so much as it was a request for peace. A request for a night of sleep uninterrupted by pain, for being able to breath without wishing she were dead. The pain mirrored in Sakura's eyes could not give her that respite; her sympathy couldn't bring Aya's brother to her.   
  
  
  
  
Sakura swallowed as she woke to see Aya-chan in the throes of yet another coughing spasm. She was almost afraid to open her eyes-- every time she looked, Aya was thinner and frailer, paler and nearly transparent. Her fever had risen over the past few days, and now it was nearly a hundred and four degrees. And even as Sakura berated herself for falling asleep again, she was afraid to awaken to the familiar sound of lung-wrenching coughs, afraid to see the poor girl in so much pain. She could only watch while Aya's thin body shook violently from her coughs, and she could only sit there until they subsided once more.   
"Sa-Sakura . . . please . . ."   
Sakura refocused her glazed eyes and saw Aya-chan staring at her with a pleading look in her eyes. Sakura swallowed, her guilt washing over her. _How could I have neglected her, so that she could sink to this state? How could I betray Aya-kun like this, and let his sister, his flesh-and-blood, _my_ responsibility, grow this ill?_ Her own guilt must have shown in her eyes, for Aya collapsed back into the cradle of her pillows with a gurgling, painful-sounding sigh, and lay still, the shallow rising and falling of her chest the only sign that she wasn't dead.   
_I can only hope she can fall asleep this time . . . _   
  
  
  
  
The door to the basement banged shut, and Omi jerked his head up from the computer with an angry intake of breath. "That _has_ to be Ken," he murmured to himself with a sigh as he turned from the computer. Ken was stumbling down the stairs, two big grocery bags in his arms. He tripped on the very last step, tumbling downwards, and managing to catch himself at the very last minute. His shoes lost grip on the floor and he skidded, until he hit the couch and was stopped.   
Reika appeared from the hallway, clad in a bathrobe with a towel around her head, her eyes widened slightly with alarm. "What's going on?" She paused, surveying the scene. Finally, she grinned slightly, saying, "Never mind, I can answer my own question . . . Ken went shopping for me again, didn't he?"   
Ken's face split into a lopsided, if slightly dazed grin. "Y-Yeah. We don't need to eat, but you do."   
Reika nodded, hiding a teasing grin. "Yes, thank you . . . of course, that doesn't mean you have to fly headfirst down the stairs. For an angel, you're awfully clumsy in flight."   
Ken flushed slightly, depositing the slightly battered paper bags on the coffee table. "Bread, peanut butter, apples, juice boxes, lettuce . . ." He paused long enough to brush his tousled brown hair out of his eyes before saying, "Think you can survive for a while on all this stuff?"   
Omi spoke up with a grin, "Well, if she couldn't, I'd think there was something wrong with her. You've got enough food there to feed an army."   
Youji appeared in the hallway, rubbing at his eyes blearily, wearing only a pair of his typical black jeans and a jacket tossed over his shoulder. "Stupid, clumsy, bloody idiot . . ." he muttered. "You made enough noise falling down those stairs to _rouse_ that army you just bought a week's rations for." He paused, shooting the boy a hard look. "You _did_ pay for it this time, didn't you?"   
Ken nodded hastily. "Yes, yes . . . I made sure to. And I told you, last time it was a mistake. I got distracted and forgot to get in line, and because of these abilities of ours I guess I just went unnoticed by the cashiers."   
Youji shook his head in exasperation and shrugged into his jacket, not bothering to put a shirt on underneath. "Well, I'm going out."   
Ken raised an eyebrow. "Where to?"   
Youji grinned broadly. "You honestly don't want to know, Ken-kun . . . unless, of course, you're _dying _to know what on earth I would want a mortal girl's phone number for . . ." The lewd, sly grin on his face made Ken blush and turn away.   
Omi suddenly stood up, raising a hand as if to stop the playboy. "Youji, wait-- you can't--"   
Youji frowned at the younger boy, puzzled. "Can't what? You've never had an attack of morals before this. What's wrong with you now?" Omi swallowed, glancing briefly at the darkened computer screen, but it was enough of a look to be noticed.   
"You've found something, haven't you?" Aya stood in doorway, his dark violet eyes narrowed.   
Omi swallowed and nodded. "Yes-- information in general. You should really hear it before you go out, Youji."   
Youji made a show of turning on his heel and flopping down in a chair. "Fine, fine, spit it out . . . you're making me late, you know, and it's a _very _important date."   
Omi rolled his eyes and sat down on the floor, cross-legged. "Okay . . ." His eyes drifted towards Reika, who was standing off to one side, her eyes bright with curiosity.   
She stared back at him for a moment, taking in his slightly apologetic attitude and closed mouth, until she realized what he was trying to do. "Oh, I see . . . I'll just go dry my hair and get dressed while you talk about this." If Omi thought it was something she didn't need to know, than Reika was more than willing to bypass that knowledge.   
Omi waited until the sound of Reika's door shutting signified her departure, and then began. "Alright. I've sort of figured out what might be triggering this all. First of all, we're angels, and the members of Schwartz are all demons-- right?" He paused, waiting for confirmation, and then continued. "And angels are symbols of ultimate good, and demons of ultimate evil."   
Ken waved a hand impatiently. "Yes, yes, we _know _that already. What's your point?"   
Omi shot Ken a quick glare, before continuing, "I know, just hold on a sec. Throughout the ages, in stories from just about every culture there is, Good has always been locked in an eternal struggle with Evil. A sort of struggle to determine the fate of mankind, its ultimate destination-- heaven, or hell. To determine this fate, Good and Evil have had . . . well, in a way, almost competitions against one another, to test which was more powerful."   
Ken sighed. "So what does that have to do with us?"   
Omi echoed Ken's sigh, his face growing slightly troubled. "I'm not entirely sure. I'm guessing, however, that this conflict between us and Schwartz may very well be one of those matches. And to have a fair competition, there must be rules."   
"Rules?" Youji made a face.   
Omi nodded. "One side cannot be more powerful than the other. But there also has to be limitations. There is no totally good human being; meaning, there is no one, alive or dead, who has never committed at least one sin. Therefore Good would have a little trouble in finding humans able to fulfill the roles of angels. Everyone has sinned, however, so Evil would have no problem."   
Aya spoke up quietly, his face shadowed and impassive. "So when two groups-- one fighting for Good, one for Evil-- died on the same night, the opportunity was too good to pass up."   
Omi nodded again, confirming Aya's guess. "Exactly. Now, think about this-- demons are creatures of shadow, of no substance. They have to possess human bodies in order to exist in this world, rather than in Hell. We've seen this with Schwartz. But because of the strict rules set up between Good and Evil, a demon's angel counterpart should be a being of pure light--" Here he stopped, lifting a hand. "And yet, we're as solid as other people."   
Youji frowned. "Couldn't they have just stuck us as light-beings or whatever you call them back in our own bodies again? Like possession, only not in a living human being?"   
Omi shook his head. "No, our bodies are still in the morgue, next to Schwartz's-- remember?" He glanced back at the computer. "This is where my guessing gets really sketchy. We've all sinned, many times, and badly. Killing someone is possibly the greatest sin of all." Omi flinched then, feeling the guilt of his former life, but continued without a trace of such a sentiment in his voice. "So there's no way we could be angels." He took a deep breath, before saying, "Therefore, we _aren't_ angels. We're simply somewhere in between."   
Youji got up from his chair to pace across the room. "But how is that fair? How can we, a bunch of half-mortal, half-immortal creatures, possibly have a _fair_ fight with a group of demons?"   
Omi shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe that's why we have our powers. But I do know that this state of in-between is very, very fragile. We can't sin, or else we'll be destroyed. We'll be worse than dead-- our souls will be forfeit, and Evil will win this match." He shot Youji a hard glare. "_That's_ why I stopped you from going out."   
Youji scowled, and muttered, "K'sou . . . Damned powers that be, taking all the fun out of the afterlife . . ." He sat back down.   
Ken spoke up then, his face dark. "So what is this going to come down to, in the end?"   
Omi winced, looking genuinely bewildered. "I honestly have no idea. Perhaps there will be some grand, climactic battle. Or maybe it'll just be to see how long we can hold on without some major sin."   
Ken shook his head, "No, I mean, how are we supposed to get rid of them? Exorcism?"   
Omi swallowed, and spoke out of a mouth suddenly gone dry, "No-- you see, there's no way for them to exorcize us, because we're not possessing anything. The only way they can get rid of _us_ is to kill us-- therefore, to keep that fragile balance of equality, the only way we're allowed to get rid of them is to kill _them._"   
Youji burst out angrily, "But that's a sin! Damn it all, if _I'm _not allowed to sin just a little bit, how come we're allowed to all commit this huge one?" He paused in his tirade, falling silent as he saw the look on Omi's face.   
"It is a sin," Omi agreed. "And so the only way to destroy the sinners is to destroy ourselves, with sin." He paused, letting this sink in, and grinned weakly. "Ironic, isn't it?"   
A voice interrupted them, as Reika poked her head around the corner. "Are you all done? I'm sort of hungry."   
Youji sighed and got up from his chair. "As done as we'll ever be-- there's no use beating this into the ground." He headed towards the stairs, zipping his jacket halfway. "I'm _still_ going to go out. And _not_," he added, when he saw the look Ken was giving him, "for what you think-- I'm sick and tired of being down this hole." And with that, he disappeared up the stairway, taking the stairs two at a time.   
Reika just looked rather puzzled, but headed over towards the grocery bags that were still on the table. She began to take things out of them, making small noises to herself at some of the items.   
Omi got to his feet and headed once more towards his computer, and Ken stood up and began to pace, oozing impatient energy from every pore. Aya just stayed leaning against the wall near the computer, his face impassive as usual, his eyes scanning the room. After a few moments, Ken came over to Omi's computer and leaned over his shoulder, asking quietly, "Do you actually think you're going to find anything else in there?"   
Omi sighed forlornly, looking very much like the young boy he was. "No, not really," he admitted truthfully. "But it's something to do while we wait."   
Ken grimaced and started to reply, but got cut off as Aya suddenly raised a hand to stop him. "Look," said the redhead quietly. "Doesn't she look familiar to you?"   
Omi blinked at Aya for a few moments until he realized who he was talking about. Turning, he watched Reika unpack groceries for a few seconds, before giving Aya an odd look. "Reika? No, who does she remind you of?"   
Ken, however, was staring intently at her. Just after Omi finished speaking, he said, "That girl . . . she looks like that Schrient woman. N . . . Neu?"   
Omi's eyes widened, and he turned once more to stare at the oblivious Reika as well. "And Neu was the one who looked like Asuka . . . for all we know, who might have _been_ Asuka . . ."   
Ken sighed. "This rather solves one mystery . . ." He shook his head. "We know why Youji's been acting so oddly, anyway."   
Omi chewed on his lip, with a vaguely worried expression on his face. "Shouldn't we tell her?"   
Ken nodded. "Probably. She deserves to know that much, at least." He paused, glancing towards the stairs. "And have you noticed that no new flowers have come into the shop for several days?"   
Omi's eyes narrowed, his face confused. "That must mean that Aya-chan and Sakura-chan aren't working in the shop . . ."   
Muscles in Aya's jaw tightened minutely, and there was a pause before he spoke. "Something's wrong."   
Omi sighed. "We don't have time to figure out what's wrong up there, Aya . . . It's probably just financial problems. They'll deal with it, they're both smart."   
Aya just looked towards the stairs for a moment before he clenched his fists, turned, and headed back down the hallway towards his room.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
The doctor removed the stethoscope from Aya-chan's chest, and slowly got up from his kneeling position. He avoided Sakura's eyes as he wrote something down on the file, pursing his lips in thought.   
Sakura abandoned all pretense of polite patience and asked, "Well? What's wrong with her?"   
The doctor sighed and made one last note on his clipboard before looking up from the papers to Sakura's face, his expression grim. "She's got the symptoms of pneumonia. The disease is progressing abnormally quickly. How long has she been sick, again?"   
Sakura ignored the icy fist of fear that had suddenly closed around her heart and responded, "I'm not sure . . . five, maybe six days?"   
The doctor nodded slowly. "But she's only recently been coughing up blood?"   
Sakura bit her lip and nodded, replying, "It was the blood that made up my mind for me that I needed to get her to a doctor."   
The doctor smiled slightly, saying as warmly as he could, "Well, you did right getting someone who could come here, rather than trying to get her to a doctor. The winter air outside would be the worst thing for her."   
Sakura nodded. Then, closing her eyes for a moment to gather the courage to speak, she asked, "Will she die?"   
The doctor didn't respond immediately. After a few, impossibly long moments of heavy silence, he said, "I'm not sure. She should start taking the antibiotics right away, though I'm not sure if they'll get to her system fast enough. This illness is strangely fast-moving-- you're sure she has neither HIV nor AIDS?"   
Sakura nodded, puzzled. "I'm positive."   
"Leukemia?"   
Sakura shook her head, saying, "No, none of that. Why?"   
The doctor looked back down at his notes with a sigh. "She must have an abnormally weakened immune system for pneumonia to move this fast. The only things I can think of that would cause this would be AIDS, or leukemia. You're sure nothing has happened to her that could possibly lower her immune system?"   
Sakura started to respond as she had before, when something occurred to her. "She was in a coma, as a result of a car accident . . . could that have done it?"   
The doctor looked up. "Possibly; we still don't know everything there is to know about what happens to the body during a coma. Perhaps she's lost part of herself as a result, and is giving up hope and therefore giving up her will to survive. If she loses faith, not even antibiotics and modern medicine can bring her back from it."   
Sakura nodded, although in her mind she was thinking something else. _Lost a part of herself? Of course she has . . . I'm no substitute for her oniichan . . ._ Instead, she replied, "Thank you, doctor, for taking the time to come here."   
The doctor nodded and put his tools back in his bag. "Here," he said, writing off a prescription and handing it to Sakura. "Have her take one tablet twice a day, once in the morning and once in the evening. This should last for a week and a half, after which you'll have no need of it. She'll either have responded well to the medicine and recovered, or . . ." The doctor didn't finish his statement-- he didn't need to.   
Sakura swallowed and nodded, before seeing the doctor down the stairs and out the door of the flower-shop with a blank expression on her face. She glanced around the empty and darkened shop, her tired eyes taking in the dead and wilting flowers in the bouquet holders, and the potted plants dry from lack of watering. _God . . . Ran, I'm so sorry. You left her to me and I didn't take care of her. Please-- someone, anyone, don't let her die . . ._   
Now that the doctor was gone, the energy that had sustained her throughout the visit, and had kept her from falling apart, drained out of her in a rush. Her legs trembled beneath her and she kneeled on the cold wooden floor, and cried. She cried for the dead flowers, for Aya-chan sick upstairs, unable to get out of bed. She cried for Ran and the ghost that haunted her subconscious with guilt, like the phantom perfume of dead roses that still lingered about the shop. But, most of all, Sakura cried for herself.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
_Author's Note:_   
Chapter 7, written in a day, when it took me . . . 3 months to get out Ch. 6? ^^;; That's what summer vacation does for ya. And, of course, Ch. 7 is a little chapter. Hmm . . . yeah, I made up all that weird theology stuff on my own, with only marginal help from Piers Anthony's "Incarnations of Immortality" series. o.o;; If it doesn't make sense, drop me an email and let me know, and I can try to rewrite it so it's more understandable . . . Thanks for reading!   
*eyes comment form* You must comment! *wiggles fingers in a mystical fashion* You _want_ to comment . . . you know you do . . . do not fight this desire! Accept it! Fill out the comment form! ^_~ Fallen Angels, by Tori: email me at [saezuru@hotmail.com][1]

   [1]: mailto:saezuru@hotmail.com



	8. 

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Weiß or it's characters (ohhh, though I wish I did...) so don't sue me. You wouldn't get anything... I have no money! This story takes place after the end of the TV series, but since I haven't gotten to see the OVAs (;_;) it doesn't have anything from there in it.**  
**C&C is very welcome! I always want feedback, even if it's just dropping a line and saying, 'Hey, I read your fic.' Email me at [saezuru@hotmail.com][1] if you want to say anything. Thanks for reading!**  
  
  
  
  


**f a l l e n   a n g e l s**  
A _Weiß Kreuz_ Fanfiction  
Part Eight   
  
  


  
"Ne . . . Reika-san?" Ken stood in the doorway to her room, fidgeting a little.   
Reika looked up from folding laundry and smiled. "For the last time, Ken, just Reika's fine," she said, and waved the boy into the room. "What's up?"   
"There's something we all think you should know. Well, that Aya, Omi, and I all think you should know. Not Youji, we haven't talked to him, but you see, that's because--" He cut himself short, with a sheepish grin. Babbling was going to get him nowhere, not when he had to bring up such a bad subject. Reika echoed his grin with a faint, puzzled smile, and motioned him to sit in one of the chairs around the room. Ken gingerly pushed aside a few articles of her clothing, and sat down.   
"So what is this important thing that I have to know, but that Youji's not allowed to know that I know?" Reika smiled slightly at the chagrined expression on Ken's face, and added, "Well, if the three of you did something without him, it's fairly obvious that you don't want him to know that you're talking to me."   
Ken sighed and nodded, with a faint smile. "It's just that we don't think he'd want us to tell you. In fact, we don't think that he knows we know . . ."   
Reika waved a hand to cut him off. "Ken, just tell me. I won't bite." She grinned, though from the faintly strained expression on her face, she was slightly nervous as to what Ken was going to say.   
"It's . . . well, it's about Youji."   
"No kidding." Her voice was amused.   
Ken grinned. "None too subtle, am I? Well, basically, it's this. You know how oddly he's been acting lately?"   
Reika raised an eyebrow. "Odd? Ken, I've only known you all for a little while. You _all_ seem a little odd."   
Ken paused to think about this for a moment. "Well, I suppose that's true. And he only really started acting oddly when we met you at the hospital, and since you didn't know him before then, you had nothing to compare him to. Not that he's any better usually, or anything . . . you know, one time he actually--"   
"Why are you changing the subject?"   
Ken stifled a curse. "I don't know why they picked _me_ to tell you," he muttered, running a hand nervously through his hair.   
"Maybe because Aya would make me feel like a guilty schoolgirl with those icy stares of his, and Omi would make me feel like I was being lectured by a seven year-old?"   
"Mm," Ken said noncomittally, his eyes drifting towards the window.   
"So . . . Are you going to tell me? Or do I have to go ask Youji himself?"   
Ken's eyes widened a little and, wincing, he said quickly, "Nah, I'll tell you. How much do you know about Youji? About who he is, or was, I suppose?"   
Reika shrugged. "Nothing whatsoever. Nothing about any of you, really. Well, I've figured out that Aya has a sister. Or a girlfriend. I couldn't tell which . . . Except I kept getting confused, because you'd talk about him as if he _were_ the girlfriend. Or sister."   
Ken blinked, trying to figure out what she was talking about. Finally, he replied, "Oh . . . you mean Aya-chan. Well, Aya has a sister named-- well, named Aya. Aya's not his real name, his real name is Ran. And Aya-chan was hit by a car on her sixteenth birthday--"   
"And . . . went into a coma?" Reika breathed in sharply. "_That's_ why that little girl in the hospital made him so upset . . ."   
Ken peered at her curiously from beneath his unruly bangs, asking intelligently, "Eh?"   
Reika blinked once, coming out of her little reverie. "Oh-- nothing. Something just finally made sense. So?"   
"Well," Ken continued, glad to be talking about something other than Youji, "When that happened, Aya-- Ran, actually, took his sister's name. Perhaps as a way of honoring her, or remembering her. I personally think it was to remind himself of his revenge, so that every time someone talked to him and used that name, he'd remember why he took it."   
Reika shivered a little, wrinkling her nose uneasily. "Morbid way of living, if you ask me. No wonder he acts all the time like he's got a stick up his--"   
Ken cut her off, with a small cough. "Maybe. Who knows? Anyway, Aya-chan is his sister. There's another girl, named Sakura, who looks so much like Aya-chan that they could pass for each other-- and did, on the night we died. But she sort of has . . . well, you could say she _had_ a crush on Aya."   
"Aya? The sister?"   
Ken flushed. "No, Aya, the brother. Ran."   
"Oh. I was confused, for a few moments there."   
Sighing, Ken agreed with a grin. "Confusing to me, too. I try to not think about that whole tangle, as much as I can."   
There was a brief silence, before Reika suddenly said sharply, "You changed the subject again!"   
Ken sniffed, stubbornly, crossing his arms across his chest. "No, _you_ were the one who started talking about Aya's past."   
Reika rolled her eyes. "Well, that's because you asked me how much I knew."   
"About Youji, not Aya!"   
"Well, if you're not going to tell me about Youji, why are you here?"   
_"Because I have no choice!"_   
There was another silence after Ken's shout, in which he drew a deep breath. Exhaling, he said in a calmer voice, "Sorry. Look, I need to just get this said. Youji-- before he joined Weiß, he was a detective."   
Reika leaned back against the headboard, crossing her arms behind her head, not interrupting this time.   
"He had a partner, named Asuka." Ken grinned, rolling his eyes. "She was probably the only woman that could make that guy blush like a schoolboy, you know. When Youji would talk about her, he'd get this look on his face, that made him look very different from the way he usually does. But then, who knows? Maybe he was like that all the time before-- before Asuka got killed."   
Reika's eyes softened, and she drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms about them. "She died? Was that why Youji became an assassin?"   
Ken shrugged, glancing out the window again. "Who knows? None of us really know why the others joined. Aya? Maybe it was for revenge for his sister's coma. Youji, it might have been Asuka. And Omi, his family deserted him when he was kidnapped years ago, and the head of this organization, Persia, brought him to Weiß. But why he stayed? I don't know."   
"And you, Ken?"   
His mouth tightened, and he replied shortly, "We're not here to talk about me."   
Reika sighed, but didn't press the subject. "Is that the end of the story, then?"   
Ken shook his head. "No, not really. You've heard how there were two groups, Weiß and Schwartz, right?" At Reika's half-nod, he continued. "There was actually a third group, made up of women, called Schrient. One of the women there always had this mask-like visor on, but during one battle it broke, and Youji saw her face. The girl looked exactly like Asuka, down to the little mole below her left eye.   
"A lot of other things happened, but the way things ended was the worst part. For a while, it seemed this girl had lost her memory during a battle, and Youji took care of her, thinking she was Asuka. We don't know if she actually was or not, but Youji was sure of it, and he was the only one who knew her, so it's not our place to deny it. But he was sure she was. And for a while, it seemed like she really had changed for the better." The muscles in Ken's face tightened, though why exactly, Reika couldn't tell.   
"And?" She was afraid to say more, in case the young man lost the momentum and stopped speaking again.   
"She betrayed him," he went on with a sigh. "She tried to kill him, and the next time our mission clashed with their purposes, he had no choice but to kill her. He didn't talk about it, but he's never been one to talk about himself. None of us are, really."   
"I never knew that," Reika murmured, staring at the ceiling. "I'm starting to learn that there's more to you-- all of you-- than meets the eye. After all, when I first met you, you were all just pretty-boy florists looking for a thief. And now, you're a group of ex-assassins, deadly angels of sin, trying to defeat an equally deadly bunch of demons." She shakes her head. "If you'd mentioned this to me two weeks ago, I'd have recommended you to the mental hospital down the block."   
Ken nodded, making a wry face. "Honestly, that's how I feel too."   
"But I still don't see why the others wanted you to tell me all this . . . I mean, it does give me a bit of insight into Youji's personality, and a little of Aya's, too. But why was this such an important thing?"   
Ken took a deep breath, deciding not to avoid her question and avoiding her eyes instead. "Asuka-- the girl Youji loved-- had short dark hair, eyes like yours . . . you could pass for twins, in all but the beauty mark on her left cheek."   
Reika's head spun, and she was silent, staring up at the ceiling.   
Ken sighed, flushing a little. "Now I'm questioning why we decided to tell you this anyway. It was a stupid idea, it's not like you--"   
"No," Reika interrupted, sitting up abruptly in bed, and flashing a brief, weak smile at the brunette. "No, it's a good thing you said something. Now I can be careful what I say around him. Thanks for the consideration."   
That was as much a dismissal as a reassurance, so Ken, realizing it as such, got up and left the room, pausing in the doorway long enough to reply, "Welcome. I think." And then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him.   
Reika sat there for a long time, just resting her chin on her knees and staring at the door. Finally, after a long internal struggle, she swung her legs to the ground, got to her feet, and left the room.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
Youji was outside, on the fire escape, smoking a cigarette. The fire escape was a quiet place, quiet except for the noise of the city below. It was more a silence of mind that he craved, rather than a silence in truth. His left hand held the nearly-finished cigarette between two fingertips, while his right toyed idly with the empty cigarette box. After being so rudely evicted from his own room so that the girl could have a place to stay, he had been sleeping on a spare mattress in Ken's room at night. Since even his room wasn't his own anymore, this place was the one place he could come and just _be_, and not think about the gravity of the situation they had all found themselves in. Not thinking about it didn't really seem to help. _I should have died, back there . . . I should have _stayed _dead, not come back to haunt this place and pretend to fight demons._ _My soul died long ago-- all of ours did. It's cruel to bring us back to this earth to fight again._   
Just as he took a long draw on his cigarette, burning another section of the tobacco to glowing ash, there came a tap on the window frame. Youji glanced to the side with an annoyed noise in his throat, to see who was invading this last retreat. _Ah, damn it . . . It's the chick. Last thing I need right now is some woman on my back about something or other._   
The window slid open. "Is there room out there for me?" the girl asked, poking her head out into the area.   
"No," replied Youji shortly, his voice annoyed. _So she takes over our mission base, then invades my room, my mind, my dreams, and now she's taking this one place as well?_   
She ignored him, clambering out of the window and onto the fire escape. There was plenty of room for both of them-- they could fit a third and even a fourth person in there comfortably. "What are you doing out here?" she asked, crossing to the far end of the fire escape, looking out at the city, stained red by the sickly sunset in the distance.   
_Like blood_, thought Youji, absently. Aloud, he said, "Attempting to be by myself, thank you."   
Reika ginned, turning her head to peer at him with eyes that were hauntingly, searingly familiar. "Well, you've failed for this evening at that attempt. So what are you really doing out here?"   
Youji began to lose his patience, though he did manage to keep that thin veneer that was _minna no Kudou Youji_, the familiar patterns of the facade staying in place as if slipping into grooves worn by years of use. "Look, sweetheart, I'm tired--"   
"You're dead. You can't get tired."   
"Fine then, I just needed a smoke--"   
"Can't be affected by nicotine, either," Reika interrupted cheerfully.   
"What do you _want_?" His voice sounded strained, even to his own ears.   
At this, Reika just shrugged and turned away again, leaning out over the rails of the fire escape, her dark hair highlighted red by the sunlight. "Ken talked to me, today," she murmured, still watching the city.   
Youji silently stifled a groan. Great. Just great. Was he going to have to be the love counselor, now? On the outside, however, he smirked and said, "Ah, so you've come to me so you can lay open the twisted and tumbled thoughts you're having about our favorite clawed assassin?"   
"He told me about Asuka."   
The smirk vanished from Youji's expression, like a broken mirror falling to pieces. For a few minutes, he just stared at Reika's back, his eyes fixed upon her shoulder blades as if they would provide some sort of comfort, something that would deny what he'd just heard. Suddenly, a wave of anger went through him, and he pushed himself off of the railing, dropping both cigarette and empty cigarette box off the side of the fire escape. "K'sou! That bastard . . . what's he think he's doing?"   
Reika moved to the window in order to block his path. "Youji, stop it. It's not his fault. They all agreed to tell me, and sent him to do it. I'm glad they did."   
The few moments her speech had taken were enough to give Youji back a little of his equilibrium. He rolled eyes eyes and slouched against the building, the worn soles of his shoes sliding a little on the metal grid floor of the fire escape. "Why are they talking to _you_ about it? It's not your problem." But a sinking, sickening feeling in his gut told him that she _knew_, that somehow, the others had seen the frightening similarities between Reika and Asuka, and that they'd told her, for some idiotic reason of their own. But that didn't mean he couldn't pretend like he didn't know what was going on.   
Reika sighed and shut the window, making rather impossible for Youji to leave without having to open it again. "Quit playing dumb, Youji. I'm not an idiot, and you know I'm not an idiot. Neither are your partners; they're not quite as blind as you seem to think."   
Youji just stared back at her, replying coldly, "I don't know what you're talking about."   
Reika let out a groan. "Why do I have to play psychologist to the supernatural?" she murmured, more a question to the universe in general than to Youji. "Ken said that I look exactly like her, except for the beauty mark."   
Youji just sighed, and slid to the ground, his back still against the building. Resting his arms on his bent knees, he watched the people scurrying back and forth in the alley beneath the fire escape. "Yeah. So?"   
Reika leaned against the railing, watching him with a calculating look. "So, what do you plan to do about it? Or are you just going to let yourself sink further into that angsty pit of despair you're digging yourself?"   
Her words stung-- even Youji had to admit that, to himself. He swallowed, and gave her a look that could have reduced a much stronger and larger person to a mere smudge of ash on the ground below. But Reika didn't move, her eyes stone-cold and hard. Youji shrugged, and looked away again. "Just go away," he muttered. "I don't need this. Go-- oh, go flirt with the guys, or something."   
A slight rustle near him and faint movement in the corner of his eye him told Youji that Reika had moved over to sit across from him. Youji refused to look at her. "Yo-tan," she said softly, surprising him with the use of his nickname, "I feel . . . I feel bad about it."   
At this, Youji turned his head enough to look at her from the corner of one eye. She wasn't looking at him, but sitting with her knees pulled up to her chest, her arms hugging them, staring with apparent interest at Youji's shoes. "It's not your fault," he replied, feeling just slightly rotten with the way he'd treated the girl. She was so young, to be dealing with demons and angels, and incredibly vulnerable looking . . .   
"But it still feels like it is," she said, with a light grin. "But, I was thinking, and . . ." And here she actually blushed. Gone now was the icy-eyed woman, bombarding him with words, and in her place was a young, frightened girl. "And I realized something. A lot hinges on you four, on this mission of yours. It's not like it's the final say in good versus evil, but it's a step, and every bit helps, I suppose."   
She stopped for a little bit, turning her head to one side, and tracing the fingers of one hand over the metal patterns in the grid-like floor of the fire-escape. When she continued, it was hesitant. "And that means that you all need to be functioning at your best. Someone like me doesn't really matter, in the long run. So . . . what I'm trying to say, is that if you still love Asuka, and see her in me, well, you can-- pretend. I don't mind. You're not exactly unattractive, or anything."   
Youji merely stared at her for a few moments, his mouth parted in surprise. Whatever he had thought she was going to say, it hadn't been this. "You mean . . ." As he spoke, her face turned a shade darker and he sighed, deciding not to say it out loud if it made her that uncomfortable. "You say I'm not unattractive, that you wouldn't mind. But you don't love me, or even feel like _that_. Do you?"   
Reika just shook her head numbly.   
He understood all too well what Reika was offering-- she was offering to be his lover, so that for a few precious moments he could pretend that Asuka was alive and with him. It was so tempting . . . his Asuka was sitting there just a few feet in front of him. Everything he'd dreamed of since that day she'd died, everything he'd wished for, prayed for, just a hand's reach away. And yet . . .   
He started to laugh, feeling something lighter inside him than he'd felt for several days. Reika looked up in surprise, and then that surprise darkened into anger. "What? Why are you laughing at me?" she demanded, eyes snapping.   
Youji just shook his head, waiting for the bubbles of laughter to die away. When he could speak again, he said, "You're _so_ not like her at all."   
Reika's eyes widened. "But Ken . . . he said--"   
"Oh, you look like her, that's for sure." Youji grinned, finding it an easier expression to assume than it had been for a while. "But you're completely different. For example, if Asuka were in your shoes and found out that I was moping just because she looked like some old love of mine, she'd smack me and tell me to get a life." He winked, running a hand through his hair.   
Reika rolled her eyes and got to her feet. "Well, Youji, you deserve to be smacked a lot of the time. I wouldn't blame her." She started to head towards the window to go back inside.   
"Hold on a sec," Youji looked up at her from where he was sitting. She paused, glancing down curiously. "Er . . . thanks, I guess, is what I'm trying to say. All I saw was the physical resemblance-- already, I'm starting to notice the little differences. Thanks."   
Reika flashed him a brilliant smile, and climbed in through the window. "You're welcome. But thank your partners, not me. They were the ones who cared enough to notice."   
"But not everyone would be willing to do what you offered," Youji murmured, soft enough that Reika could have missed it entirely. After a few moments, he called out, "Reika?"   
Her head emerges once more from inside. "Hmm?"   
"Toss me that pack of cigarettes on the table there, will you?"   
She disappeared for a few moments, and returned with the box held loosely in one hand. Youji lifted his hands to catch it, as she tossed the box . . . and it sailed over his head, dropping down into the alleyway below. "H-Hey!" said Youji, with a scowl. "You can't be _that_ bad of a throw."   
Reika just grinned, and said, "Smoking's bad for you. Even for angels." And with that, she winked, and disappeared into the building, shutting the window behind her.   
Youji shook his head, though an answering smile came to his lips. With a sigh, he pushed his sunglasses up on his nose and stretched out his long legs in front of him. Clasping his hands behind his head, he leaned back, watching the reddened sun sink below the horizon.   
  
  
  
Ran lay awake in bed, staring up at the ceiling, his sleepless eyes wide open. He felt no fatigue, no exhaustion, and yet the others insisted they try to go to sleep. It was supposed to take their minds off of the task ahead of them. _Foolish idea,_ he thought to himself, turning over on his side. _We could be researching right now, or training our 'talents', or _anything _to prepare for this_ _except sleeping._ He sighed and sat up, giving up on the prospect of sleep tonight.   
For what must have been the thirtieth time that night, Ran's thoughts turned once more to the flower shop, and the strangeness of the fact that it appeared to have been abandoned for about six days now. "There has to be something wrong," he murmured, torn between an almost obsessive desire to check on his younger sister and the knowledge that he couldn't go upstairs to see her and give away his situation. "If . . ." he began quietly, slowly. "If I go up now, and just see for a little while, no one will be the wiser. I won't wake her or Sakura. I'll only look . . ." With that justification firmly in his mind, he stood up fluidly and shrugged into a black t-shirt and jeans.   
He opened the door to his room and looked out, cautiously, but there wasn't anyone in the hallway or the main room. He padded barefoot across the floor and headed silently up the stairs, turning the doorknob slowly. The door creaked as he opened it-- wincing, Ran made a mental note to have the hinges oiled. Up the second flight of stairs he went, and down the hallway. _Which door?_ He wondered, helplessly. One door was the upstairs bathroom, at the end of the hall. There were four remaining rooms, which had been the Weiß boys' rooms when they were alive. Two of these four had doors open, and were obviously empty; the other two, however, had closed doors-- these were the doors that must lead to Sakura and Aya-chan's rooms.   
Ran made a split-second decision, and turned to the left-hand door on a whim. Silently, the doorknob turned without being touched, and the door swung inwards without a sound. The room beyond was dark and silent, the only light being from behind closed blinds at the window. As quietly as was possible, Ran padded barefoot across the carpet to the bed. Fast asleep, short hair tumbled across the pillow, mouth open like a young child's, was Sakura. Ran's breath caught in his throat for a moment, his thoughts twisting. _She looks so much like Aya,_ his mind whispered. _And yet, she's different . . ._ Ran closed mental pathways, blocked subconscious trains of thought, and turned away from the bedside before he could notice the lines of strain on her face, the dark circles the hung beneath her closed eyes. The door clicked shut behind him when he left.   
He was a little less careful about opening Aya's door, knowing that this time he'd found the right room. When he first opened the door, the room seemed the same as Sakura's had been. As his dark eyes scanned the room, however, Ran noticed that it was lighter than the other. The curtains had been swept away and to the sides, and were restlessly billowing in the constant stream of frigid air blowing in through the open window . . .   
Something screamed, deep in Ran's mind. Something was wrong with the picture . . . Suddenly, his eyes widened in alarm. _An open window?_ His thoughts raced. _But it's freezing outside. What . . ._   
Just then, something caught Ran's eye-- something low and black, something shadowy on the ledge outside Aya's window. He stared at it for a few moments, before he saw a flash of gold, two narrowed, golden eyes, the shadows reflecting off of the curves of a vicious smirk . . .   
With a stifled shout from Ran, the window shut with a slam. It took him a few moments to recover from shock, but when he did, he was shaking in barely suppressed anger. That Schwartz had dared to try and target his sister, his family, his only tie left in the physical world . . . Ran crossed the room quickly and threw open the window once more, and he scanned the streets below for any sign of the demon that had been there. There was none, but Ran had expected that, and for the moment, didn't care. All that he could think of was the strange luck that had allowed him to arrive in time to keep the demon from entering and harming his sister.   
Ran shut the window again, quietly, and as he did a faint noise from behind him caused him to turn, eyes on the little bed in the corner. _Did I wake her?_ He wondered, attempting to melt back into the shadows, trying to avoid being seen.   
_"S-Saku-ra?"_ came the faint, almost inaudible sound, more of a sigh than a voice. It was labored and hoarse, cracking on the last syllable.   
For a moment, Ran recoiled at the sound of that voice. It was no voice he knew-- it sounded more like something out of intensive care at the hospital. But then he saw the faint sillhouette of a girl's face, saw her throat convulse as she tried to swallow--   
"Aya?" whispered Ran, hurrying towards his sister's bedside. Without realizing he was doing it, he concentrated briefly and the street-lamp outside flared to life, filling the room with a pale, ghostly light. Aya's lips were blue, her closed eyes swollen painfully. Her chest rose and fell shallowly, her breathing labored and irregular. Trying to ignore the panic creeping into his thoughts, Ran glanced around aimlessly for something, anything that would give him a clue as to what was wrong with her. His desperate eyes fell on a little plastic bottle, the brown-orange color of a prescription medicine, sitting on her bedside table. Ran read the label quickly, ignoring everything except for the little box in the lower right corner, which held the doctor's name and diagnosis. Scrawled in shorthand was the single word: _pneumonia_.   
For a few moments, Ran had to stop, letting his frantic thoughts calm a little, until he could finally understand-- somehow, Aya-chan had caught pneumonia, which was why she was so ill.   
With a sinking, leaden feeling dropping into the pit of his stomach, he glanced back towards the window. The worst thing for an invalid with a lung sickness was cold air. Ran swallowed, closing his eyes. Just because the demon had been outside, and Ran had shut the window, didn't mean that the attempt had failed. After all, there was no way of knowing just how long the window had been open, no way to tell how long the winter air had been clawing its way into Aya's lungs. Burned into the insides of his eyelids, all Ran could see was that flash of golden eyes, the smirk upon the demon's stolen face . . .   
"O-Onii--"   
The gasp brought Ran abruptly back to the present, and he lifted one of Aya's limp hands. Her skin was freezing to the touch, transparent and clammy like a corpse's. Forcing himself to sound normal, Ran said, "Hush, Aya-chan . . . I'm here now. Everything's alright. You're safe."   
The girl weakly opened her eyes, focusing wearily on Ran's face. "I-- oniichan . . ."   
Ran shook his head, and started chafing at her arm, trying to lift the cold from her skin. "Don't speak, it's alright. I'm here."   
Aya-chan's face contorted with pain, and her arm twitched feebly. "'niichan, stop . . . it hurts . . ."   
Ran gave up on trying to rub some life back into the girl's frozen limbs and sat down on the bed. He slipped his arms under her shoulders and lifted her, leaning her back against him, trying to share his body heat with his sister. His thoughts circled frantically, not letting him ignore the knowledge that her body felt weightless, like a feather, as if there was nothing left of her except a frail husk.   
"'niichan, I thought you'd never come." Aya-chan's voice was steadier, but somehow the fact couldn't cheer Ran nor calm the fear racing through his veins.   
"What do you mean?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.   
"I know I'm dying," she whispered, her eyes too large for her pale, sunken face. Her lips, cracked and dry, curved into the ghost of a radiant smile. "You've finally come back to take me home."   
Something wrenched at Ran's heart; the utter sweetness of her smile, the unadulterated trust in her dark eyes. "No," he whispered, angrily blinking away dampness from his eyes. "Aya-chan, you're not dying. You'll be warm again in no time."   
"I'm not--" Before she could speak her sentence, she broke into a fit of coughing. Her frail body shook with each spasm and every cough was weaker than the last, until she could only gasp in pain, her thin fingers clinging desperately to Ran's shoulders. When she recovered, she opened her mouth to continue, and Ran reached up with a trembling hand to wipe away the blood at the corner of her mouth. "It isn't cold anymore," she whispered, her voice thin and weak.   
"Aya-chan, you're freezing." He tightened his arms around his sister, trying to will some warmth into her dying body. "Don't let go, Aya-chan, please--"   
"I'm not afraid," she whispered, that phantom smile returning. "Because an angel has come to guide me home." Her fingers curled, clutching his shirt as if clinging to a board in the middle of a shipwreck.   
Ran felt the edges of hysteria encroach his mind, and he replied almost angrily, "You're not going to die! Aya-chan, listen to me-- I'm here, I haven't come to end your life. Live, we can be together--"   
Aya lifted a finger, placing it gently against her brother's lips, her eyes calm. "Just don't leave me, Ran. That's all I ask."   
Ran choked back what he was going to say, and found himself nodding numbly.   
The young girl smiled, her face filled with the joy of a child, and curved her hand to place it gently against his cheek. Then she gave a little sigh, as if finally surrendering a lost battle, and the small hand fell from Ran's face to dangle lifelessly off of the edge of the bed.   
"A-Aya?" whispered Ran, hoarsely. "AYA!"   
He collapsed, his arms around the lifeless body of his sister, his body shaking with uncontrolled sobs.   
  
  
  
  
Sakura stood in the doorway silently, tears rolling down her pale cheeks. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, but the angel that had come to take his sister didn't raise his head, and the only response was the limitless sound of his grief. The window shattered, the glass blowing outwards in a glittering cascade, as Ran pulled his sister's body closer. The bottle of medicine fell over and rolled off of the nightstand, snapping into pieces as it hit the floor. As if a violent storm had entered the room, Sakura felt herself flattened against the wall by the sheer force of Ran's grief, manifested through his telekinetic power. The nightstand itself rocked once and fell over, breaking into pieces that flew up and smashed into the wall, only inches from where Sakura stood. The window-frame ripped itself from the wall and shattered, adding to the debris surging violently around the room. Sakura merely stood, her eyes closed, her lips moving silently for a moment before she managed to whisper once more, "I'm-- Ran, I'm so--"   
Her voice was cut off as one of the blurred shards of debris struck her on the side of her head, and she slumped to the ground, vision fading to black. "--sorry . . ."   
  
  
  
  
_Author's Note:_   
Me and my pre-reader have . . . rather interesting conversations about my story. She's one of my best friends in real life, and so we tend to joke a lot. I'm considering compiling a lot of e-mail conversations into a rather funny dialogue, as an _omake_ to "Fallen Angels." I'll probably end up doing it anyway, but I'd like to know if there's enough interest to post it up on fanfication.net. So, the point of this is to say: e-mail me about this, and let me know if you're interested at all in reading it-- it's pretty funny. ^__^   
And many thanks to all you readers, and those who have emailed me. And especially Ochiba, for her very uplifting (not to mention ego-boosting ^_~) comments on this story. (And for her great YoujixRan fic, which she _will_ continue, else I shall be very upset. ^_~) Thanks!  
Fallen Angels, by Tori: email me at [saezuru@hotmail.com][1]

   [1]: mailto:saezuru@hotmail.com



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